^^ji^vSfcr^^ 


/^. 


BS  2410 

.W53 

1919           1 

Wilson, 

Philip  Whitwell, 

1875- 

The  church  we  forget 

THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 


By  P.  Whitwell  Wilson 

A  companion  •volume  to  "-"The  Christ  We  Forget." 

The  Church  We  Forget 

A  Study  of  the  Life  and  Words  of  the  Early  Chris- 
tians. 

8vo,   cloth net   ;?2.oo 

A  graphic,  faithful  picture  of  the  early  Christians, 
of  what  they  aimed  at,  on  what  they  relied.  It 
shows  what  it  was  those  peasants  and  fishermen 
had  that  the  great  Church  of  God  throughout  the 
world  would  appear  to  lack.  A  book  one  cannot 
afford  to  miss  ! 

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The  Christ  We  Forget 

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THE 

CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

A  Study  of  the  Life  and  Words 

of  the  Early  Christians  y0^iWmt 

riLB  0    19 

BY  ^ 

PHILIP  WHITWELL  WILSON 

jiuthor  of  *'Thi  Christ  We  Forget,''  etc. 


New  York.  Chicago 

Fleming    H.    Revell    Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  I9I9»  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  Uurth  Wabash  Ave. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:      75     Princes     Street 


To 
Mr  SON,  OLIVER 


PREFACE 

IN  these  pages  will  be  found  a  character  sketch 
of  the  disciples  who  tried  to  carry  out  Our 
Lord's  plans  for  the  world.  Their  story  is  also  full 
of  meaning  for  people  of  every  time,  and  especially 
for  us,  living  as  we  do  amid  change  and  upheaval. 
I  write,  not  as  a  theologian,  nor  as  a  scholar,  but  as 
a  layman  who  owes  much  to  clergy  and  ministers, 
and  is  glad  to  return  the  debt.  Possibly  what  I 
have  found  in  the  records  will  come  as  a  surprise  to 
those  critics  who  consider  that  Paul  lacked  appre- 
ciation of  woman,  that  John  the  apostle  could  not 
have  been  John  the  elder,  and  that  the  disciples  ex- 
pected the  end  of  the  world  next  week.  All  I  can 
say  is,  that  I  do  not  so  read  the  narrative.  More- 
over, what  I  have  had  to  describe  is  the  primitive 
simplicity  of  Christ's  cause.  It  must  not  be  as- 
sumed, therefore,  that  I  am  expressing  harsh  judg- 
ments on  ministerial  orders  and  ceremonies  which 
have  since  developed.  On  these  matters  I  am  not 
competent,  even  as  an  amateur,  to  speak.  The 
object  has  been,  not  controversy,  but  to  show  the 
devotion  of  the  disciples  to  the  one  Lord,  on  which 
we  are  all,  I  am  sure,  fully  agreed. 

For  what  we  need  to-day  is,  after  all,  a  mission- 
ary ardour  and  efifort,  a  passion  for  the  conquest  of 
men's  hearts  and  affections,   an  impulse   towards 


2  PREFACE 

comfort  and  rescue  and  healing  and  conciliation. 
Yet  mere  emotion  is  not  enough.  We  ought  to  be 
ready  to  devote  minds  and  will  to  the  duty  of  find- 
ing out  what  Christ's  cause  really  means.  Every- 
thing other  than  this  has  failed.  Here  alone  may 
Hope  arise  from  her  solitary  seat  and  remove  the 
bandage  from  her  darkened  eyes. 


For  all  the  saints  who  from  their  labours  rest, 
Who  Thee  by  faith  before  the  world  confessed, 
Thy  name,  O  Jesus,  be  for  ever  blest. 
Alleluia! 

Thou  wast  their  Rock,  their  Fortress,  and  their  Might; 
Thou,  Lord,  their  Captain  in  the  well-fought  fight; 
Thou,  in  the  darkness  drear,  their  one  true  Light. 
Alleluia! 

So  may  Thy  soldiers,  faithful,  true,  and  hold, 
Fight  as  the  saints  who  nobly  fought  of  old. 
And  win,  with  them,  the  victor's  crown  of  gold. 
Alleluia! 

O  blest  commmiion!    Fellowship  divine! 
We  feebly  struggle,  they  in  glory  shine; 
Yet  all  are  one  in  Thee,  for  all  are  Thine. 
Alleluia! 

— W.  W.  How. 


CONTENTS 


I.  The  Simplicity  of  the  Early  Christians 

II.  The  One  United  Family 

III.  The  Modesty  of  the  Saints  . 

IV.  The  Happiness  of  the  Faithful 

V.  The  Power  of  Their  Inspiration 

VI.  The  Method  of  the  First  Missionaries 

VII.  An  Era  of  Revivals 
VIII  The  Gift  of  One  Language  . 

IX.  Common  Ownership  of  Property 

X.  The  Miracles  of  Healing      . 

XI.  Mutterings  of  Persecution  . 

XII.  The  Judgments  of  the  Spirit 

XIII.  The  Short  Life  of  Stephen 

XIV.  The  Preachings  of  Philip 

XV.  "  Saul  of  Tarsus  Dies  " 

XVI.  The  Vision  of  Paul 

XVII.  The  Vision  of  Peter 

XVIII.  The  Old  and  the  New  Church 

XIX.  The  First  Organized  Mission 

XX.  Old  Conflicts  with  New 

XXI.  The  Call  of  Macedonia 

XXII.  Rescue  of  Womanhood  . 

XXIII.  Prisoners  and  Captives 

3 


7 
15 
22 

30 

n 
45 
52 
59 

68 
76 
86 

97 
104 
114 
125 
132 
140 

151 
162 
172 

183 
191 
198 


CONTENTS 


XXIV. 

Christ  for  the  University 

.     206 

XXV. 

The  Challenge  to  Civilization        .     214 

XXVI. 

The  First  Scandal  . 

.     221 

XXVII. 

The  Conquest  of  Mysticism    . 

.    231 

XXVIII. 

The  Hope  of  His  Coming 

.    242 

XXIX. 

Paul's  Path  to  the  Cross 

.    252 

XXX. 

Vindicating  a  Passport    . 

.     262 

XXXI. 

Paul  Before  the  High  Priest 

.    270 

XXXII. 

The  Struggle  with  Felix 

.     281 

XXXIII. 

The  Fight  for  Festus 

.    291 

XXXIV. 

Paul  Before  Agrippa 

.     296 

XXXV. 

The  Voyage      .... 

.     304 

XXXVI. 

Paul  Wins  the  Race 

.     319 

XXXVII. 

The  Triumph  of  Peter    . 

.     331 

XXXVIII. 

The  Beatific  Vision 

.     339 

Index        .                .        • 

.        .     348 

/ 


THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 


The  Church's  one  foundation 

Is  Jesus  Christ  her  Lord: 
She  is  His  new  creation 

By  water  and  the  word; 
From  heaven  He  came  and  sought  heK 

To  he  His  holy  bride; 
With  His  own  blood  He  bought  her, 

And  for  her  life  He  died. 

Elect  from  every  nation. 

Yet  one  o'er  all  the  earth. 
Her  charter  of  salvation 

One  Lord,  one  faith,  one  birth. 
One  holy  name  she  blesses. 

Partakes  one  holy  food, 
^And  to  one  hope  she  presses, 

With  every  grace  endued. 

Though  with  a  scornfid  wonder 

Men  see  her  sore  oppressed. 
By  schisms  rent  asunder, 

By  heresies  distressed. 
Yet  saints  their  zvatch  are  keeping, 

Their  cry  goes  up,  "  How  longf  " 
And  soon  the  night  of  weeping 

Shall  be  the  morn  of  song. 

'Mid  toil  and  tribulation. 

And  tumidt  of  her  war. 
She  waits  the  consummation 

Of  peace  for  evermore, 
Till  with  the  vision  glorious 

Her  longing  eyes  are  blest. 
And  the  great  Church  victorious 

Shall  be  the  Church  at  rest. 

— S.  J.  Stone. 


THE  SIMPLICITY  OF  THE  EARLY 
CHRISTIANS 

IN  the  year  of  war,  1917, 1  wrote  a  book,  in  which, 
as  a  journalist,  and  not  as  a  theologian,  I  pre- 
sented a  character  study  of  our  Lord,  as  He  ap- 
peared to  me  in  the  four  Gospels  which  I  read  in 
our  mother  tongue.  Despite  limitations  which 
were  obvious,  this  book  interested  people,  both 
in  the  United  States  and  in  Great  Britain,  and  it  is 
now  suggested  that,  still  writing  confessedly  as  a 
journalist  only,  I  should  proceed — braving  the  pit- 
falls— with  a  companion  picture  of  the  earliest 
Church, — of  the  men  and  women  like  ourselves 
who  first  followed  Christ  and  fought  His  battles. 
Here  again  my  paint-box  is  the  Bible  and  nothing 
else, — the  Acts  and  the  Epistles  and  the  Apocalypse 
— and  my  canvas  is  a  page  which  he  who  runs  may 
read.  I  appeal  to  those  who  have  neither  time  nor 
inclination  to  study  commentaries — who  cannot  go 
to  college  to  hear  lectures  by  doctors  of  divinity.  I 
will  suppose  that  you  carry  in  your  pocket  a  New 
Testament,  costing  but  a  few  cents,  yet  clearly 
printed,  in  which  at  odd  moments  you  read  a  chap- 
ter.    So  let  us  proceed. 

At  first  sight,  you  would  have  said  that  our 
resources  in   men   and   money  were  many   times 

7 


8  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET' 

greater  than  those  of  the  original  disciples.  We 
confront  the  world  with  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
clergy  and  ministers,  lay  preachers,  Sunday-school 
teachers  and  missionaries,  elders  and  deaconesses, 
>vith  organists,  choirs  and  all  the  camp  followers 
of  a  great  religion.  But  at  Jerusalem  the  little 
community  which  met  in  the  upper  room  consisted 
only  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  men,  with  some 
women  in  addition.  Of  the  multitudes  who  had 
heard  Our  Lord  speak  and  received  His  healing, 
none  save  these  clung  to  His  cause.  Mere  words, 
even  His  words,  which  only  reached  the  ear — mere 
miracles,  even  His  miracles,  which  only  cured  the 
flesh — were  not  enough  to  stand  the  final  test. 
Then  as  now,  more  was  needed  than  preaching, 
however  persuasive,  and  philanthropy,  however 
effective.     And  we  must  find  out  what  it  was. 

Certainly  not  money !  Our  churches  are  en- 
dowed with  millions;  they  had  scarcely  a  cent  with 
which  to  organize  a  revival,  while  as  for  a  political 
establishment,  He  had  by  His  last  words  before  the 
Ascension  postponed  that  idea.  He  would  not 
thus  set  up  His  eternal  kingdom  upon  earth.  In- 
deed if  you  had  visited  Jerusalem  at  this  time,  and 
had  asked  for  the  Christian  Church,  none  would 
have  known  what  you  meant.  The  disciples,  left 
to  themselves,  were  only  Nazarenes, — followers  of 
an  obscure  Galilean  who  had  been  executed  as  a 
felon,  and  it  was  not  until  years  later,  and  then  at 
Antioch,  many  miles  distant,  that  they  used  the 
name  which  hails  Him  Messiah.  At  the  outset, 
the  Church  was  not  even  recognized  as  a  definite 
society.  Outsiders  noted  those  who  belonged  to 
.Christ    merely    because    they    lived    in    a    certain 


SIMPLICITY  OF  EARLY  CHRISTIANS       9 

"  way  "  which  differed  from  the  customs  of  the 
time.  With  us,  worship  is  pubhc  and  conduct  is 
sometimes  private.  With  them  it  was  the  other 
way  round — conduct  was  apparent  and  worship 
was  concealed  behind  closed  doors.  There  was 
an  inner  Ufe,  which  God  alone  watched. 

Sometimes  we  are  misled  by  phrases.  When  we 
say  that  a  man  is  "  going  into  "  the  Church,  we 
mean  that  he  will  be  ordained  as  a  clergyman  or 
minister,  and  in  many  countries  he  will  wear  a 
special  garb  or  "  cloth."  Those  who  were  "  added 
to  "  the  early  Church  assumed  no  such  special  uni- 
form— in  fact,  Paul  thought  so  little  of  his  cloak 
that  he  left  it  behind  him  at  Troas  and  Timothy 
had  to  bring  it  along  to  Rome.  The  brotherhood 
of  saints  belonged  to  laymen  as  much  as  to  clergy 
and  every  one,  whatever  his  ecclesiastical  status, 
could  wash  his  robe  and  make  it  white  in  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb.  In  an  era  of  caste,  slavery,  and 
bitter  oppression,  this  spiritual  citizenship  was  a 
model  for  democracy. 

I  am  one  who  is  helped  by  symbols,  including 
stained  glass  windows.  But  I  am  endeavouring  on 
this  occasion  to  read  my  Bible  by  plain  daylight. 
As  a  matter  of  history,  men  like  Peter  and  women 
like  Dorcas  did  not  wear  elaborate  vestments  or 
adopt  stately  poses,  or  appear  under  richly  carven 
canopies.  On  the  contrary,  Pkul  was  of  mean  ap- 
pearance, and  his  only  known  gesture  was  a  cer- 
tain wonderful  **'  beckoning  of  the  hand  "  which  at 
Antioch  in  Pisidia  captured  a  synagogue,  while  in 
Jerusalem  it  silenced  a  mob.  James  expressly 
warns  us  against  the  respect  of  persons  which 
picks  out  the  man  with  the  gold  ring  and  the  rich 


10  THE  CHUECH  WE  FOEGET 

robe;  while  Timothy  was  told  that  the  adornment 
of  women  should  be,  not  broidered  hair,  or  gold, 
or  pearls,  or  costly  array,  but  modest  apparel,  with 
shamefacedness  and  sobriety  and  good  works. 
Church  parade,  as  we  call  it,  was  thus  discouraged 
and  these  people,  living  amid  the  luxury  and  the 
ostentation  of  the  Roman  Empire,  avoided  adver- 
tisement and  anticipated  by  seventeen  centuries 
the  black  coat  with  which  the  Republic  of  the 
United  States  encounters  the  gilded  lace  and 
ribands  of  European  diplomacy. 

The  Church  had  its  Calendar.  Christians  ob- 
served the  Passover  and  Pentecost.  But,  with 
them,  every  day  was  a  Saint's  day.  Every  day 
new  converts  were  added  to  the  cause.  Every 
day  was  a  day  of  salvation.  What  we  call  canon- 
ization is  the  reward  of  a  few,  a  reward  long  post- 
poned and  finally  granted  by  the  Vatican.  In 
Jerusalem,  an  act  of  God,  immediate  and  decisive, 
made  the  Saint,  and  every  such  Saint,  however 
humble,  must  walk  worthily  of  his  high  calling.  I 
do  not  say  that  canonization  is  wrong — I  am  not 
here  to  decide  that — I  only  state  as  a  fact  that  it 
came  later.  Similarly,  while  church  officers  were 
to  be  held  in  high  esteem,  we  do  not  find  that  they 
were  greeted  with  a  genuflection  or  obeisance.  At 
Caesarea,  Peter  firmly  declined  the  worship  of 
Cornelius,  while  at  Lystra,  when  the  people  would 
do  sacrifice  to  Paul  and  Barnabas,  those  evangelists 
rent  their  clothes.  Such  reverence  for  special 
leaders  was  thus  another  of  the  practices  which, 
whatever  may  be  our  view  of  it,  came  later.  At 
the  outset,  Christ  was  served  by  disciples  or  teach- 
able persons;  by  evangelists,  or  persons  with  news 


SIMPLICITY  OF  EARLY  CHRISTIANS     11 

to  tell;  by  apostles  or  missionaries,  for  the  word  is 
the  same,  or  selected  persons,  who  were  free  to  go 
abroad;  and  by  prophets,  or  persons  with  insight. 
All  had  their  appointed  task  but  all  reserved 
homage  for  the  one  Master. 

Avoiding  titles  themselves,  these  people  used 
plain  speech  to  others.  Tertullus,  the  orator, 
talked  in  flattering  terms  about  "  most  noble 
Felix."  To  Paul,  Felix  was  simply  a  judge,  as 
Agrippa  was  simply  a  king.  Nor  did  they  flatter 
the  mob.  It  was  not  a  case  of  "  Ladies  and  Gentle- 
men "  when  they  spoke,  but,  short  and  sharp, 
"  Men  of  Israel,"  "  Men  of  Athens,"  ''  Men  and 
Brethren."  It  was  manhood  that  they  valued — 
manhood  that  they  displayed — without  prefix  or 
compliment.  As  God  regards  men  and  women,  so 
did  they. 

The  vocabulary  of  the  early  Church  was  thus 
curiously  simple.  They  talked  in  monosyllables 
like  love,  joy,  peace,  and  were  little  worried  by 
technical  terms  which  encumber  our  theology. 
The  creeds  were  still  unwritten,  save  in  the  heart. 
There  was  as  yet  no  catechism.  The  only  sug- 
gestion of  a  liturgy  that  I  can  discover,  and  it  is 
scarcely  a  suggestion,  is  the  thanksgiving  at  Jeru- 
salem when  persecution  was  threatened.  Hymns 
and  spiritual  songs  were  sung,  but  the  melody  had 
to  be  first  in  the  heart, — there  were  no  printed 
words  and  music.  Nor  were  there  prayer  books, 
only  prayer,  and  no  articles  of  religion  had  then 
been  drafted,  unless  we  regard  as  such  the  circular 
letter  which  dealt  with  various  Jewish  ordinances. 
Sometimes  we  are  apt  to  apply  a  modern  and  nar- 
rowed meaning  to  the  broad  human  expressions 


12  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

which  we  find  in  the  New  Testament.  A  bishop 
was  not  a  peer  of  the  realm  or  prelate,  as  we  put  it 
in  England,  but  an  overseer  or  shepherd,  who,  as 
every  man  ought,  looked  after  the  interests  of 
others,  rather  than  his  own.  When  Paul  went 
about  ''confirming"  the  Churches,  he  strengthened 
them,  as  we  all  may  do,  with  helpful  words.  It 
was  service,  rather  than  ceremony. 

And,  finally,  we  must  get  out  of  our  minds  the 
idea  that  a  church  in  those  days  consisted  of  bricks 
and  mortar.  What  the  apostles  meant  by  a  church 
was  not  an  edifice,  with  a  pulpit  and  chancel  and 
reredos,  but  a  congregation  or  society  of  men  and 
women;  built  together  like  living  stones;  and  they 
were  quite  content  to  meet  in  some  upper  room, 
or  "  a  place,"  or  a  private  dwelling  like  that  of 
Mary,  mother  of  John  Mark,  where  a  housemaid 
called  Rhoda  acted  as  doorkeeper.  It  was  not  until 
all  these  early  Christians,  and,  indeed,  their  chil- 
dren after  them,  had  been  long  dead,  that  money 
began  to  be  spent  on  architecture.  The  world- 
wide mission  was  inaugurated  with  an  open-air 
meeting  at  some  street-corner  in  Jerusalem.  Paul 
preached  wherever  he  could  get  a  hearing — in 
synagogues,  by  the  riverside  at  Philippi,  on  the 
hill  of  the  pagan  god  Mars  at  Athens,  on  the  steps 
of  the  citadel  in  Jerusalem,  in  Herod's  palace,  and 
in  a  hired  house  under  the  shadow  of  Caesar's 
throne,  where  he  was — as  he  puts  it — an  am- 
bassador in  bonds.  The  energy  that  we  devote  to 
mortgages,  debts,  and  bazaars  was  concentrated  by 
these  pioneers  on  the  supreme  task  of  winning 
men.  For  why  should  they  waste  their  forces  on 
material  shrines?    Anywhere  and  everywhere  they 


SIMPLICITY  OF  EARLY  CHRISTIANS     1:3 

expected  to  meet  God.  The  first  vision  came  to 
Stephen  when  he  was  in  the  dock.  The  second 
came  to  Paul  on  a  turnpike  road.  The  third  came 
to  Peter  in  a  tannery,  of  all  places,  and  the  last 
came  to  John  in  a  salt-mine. 

Nor  did  they  waste  time  or  temper  in  wrangling 
over  ordinances.  The  only  altars  that  they  knew 
of  were  in  the  Jewish  or  Pagan  temples  and  they 
broke  their  bread  simply,  going  from  house  to 
house.  There  were  no  baptisteries;  and  Philip, 
when  approached  by  the  Ethiopian  eunuch,  there- 
fore used  a  well  in  the  desert  of  Gaza,  now  familiar 
to  the  armed  forces  of  the  Allies.  At  Philippi, 
Paul  and  Silas  administered  the  rite  in  a  jailer's 
lodge.  Indeed,  so  afraid  was  he  of  exalting  the 
mere  form,  that  in  writing  to  the  Corinthians,  he 
actually  thanked  God  that  he  had  himself  baptized 
none  of  them,  save  Crispus,  Gains,  and  the  house- 
hold of  Stephanas.  "  Christ  sent  me  not  to  bap- 
tize," said  he, — and  the  very  word  "sent"  indi- 
cates apostleship— '^  but  to  preach  the  gospel." 
There  lay  the  thing  to  be  done — not  to  elaborate 
systems  but  to  liberate  souls. 

If  then  I  am  asked  to  furnish  a  first  glimpse  of 
these  few  scattered  Christians,  I  reply  that  they 
were  simple  folk.  Unencumbered  by  machinery 
and  traditions  and  caste  and  ritual,  they  moved 
freely  over  the  whole  realm  of  opportunity.  Ste- 
phen and  Philip  might  be  appointed  to  serve  tables 
while  Peter  and  John  preached.  But  if  Stephen  and 
Philip  preached  as  helpfully  as  Peter  and  John, 
they  were  invited  to  do  so.  No  Church  can  grow — 
no  country  can  develop — unless  there  be  this  free- 
dom of  opportunity,  this  simple  aim,  this  one  thing 


14:  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

for  you  and  for  me  to  do.  The  disciples  knew 
what  the  one  thing  was,  they  did  it,  and  therefore 
they  turned  the  whole  world  upside  down. 

These  are  days  when  every  institution  seeks  to 
justify  its  usefulness  by  propaganda.  The  one 
Catholic  and  world-wide  Church  of  Christ,  as  a 
spiritual  body,  has  grown  directly  from  the  little 
societies  of  early  Christians  whose  thought  and  life 
will  be  described  in  these  pages.  As  they  drew 
inspiration  from  their  Bible,  so  shall  we  draw  in- 
spiration from  ours.  As  they  brought  ancient  wis- 
dom to  bear  on  modern  problems,  so  shall  we  fol- 
low their  example.  What  we  read  of  old  times 
bears  upon  what  we  do  in  the  twentieth  century. 
Our  schools  and  colleges  tell  us  that  we  learn  much 
by  fighting  over  again  the  battles  of  Greece  and 
Rome.  These  Christians  fought  the  biggest  battle 
of  all,  and  it  continues  unto  this  day. 


II 

THE  ONE  UNITED  FAMILY 

LET  us  take  the  New  Testament  and  read  for 
ourselves  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  then 
record  our  first  and  immediate  impression.  Does 
it  not  strike  you  at  once  that  if  these  early  Chris- 
tians revisited  us  to-day  they  w^ould  need  a  diction- 
ary? It  seems  to  me  that  they  would  have  been 
utterly  puzzled  by  our  sectarian  labels.  Among 
the  Jews,  as  among  Moslems  of  our  own  times, 
there  were,  doubtless,  parties — Pharisees,  Sad- 
ducees  and  so  on — but  I  hardly  dare  to  think  what 
Paul  would  have  said  about  the  schisms  which  now 
cleave  asunder  the  Body  of  Christ.  We  do  indeed 
hear  of  Nicolaitines  at  Ephesus  but  they  were 
solemnly  denounced  by  John  the  apostle.  Paul 
was  illustrious,  Peter  was  venerable,  Apollos  was 
eloquent,  but  no  denomination  was  named  after 
any  of  them.  Against  terms  like  Lutheran,  Wes- 
leyan,  Franciscan,  Dominican,  Benedictine,  it  is 
not  for  me  to  utter  one  word,  but  I  must  point  out 
that  all  these  societies  came  later.  Their  especial 
tenets,  however  valuable, — the  things  in  which 
they  differ  from  the  rest  of  us — were  not  among 
the  essentials  of  the  faith.  Somehow  or  other,  the 
one  claim  of  Christ  included  all  the  rest. 

Believe   me,    I    do   not   criticize — not   at   all — I 

15 


16  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

merely  dig  deep  to  the  fundamentals.  Baptism 
was  administered — that  is  clear — but  I  do  not  find 
that  there  were  people  called  Baptists.  Preachers 
went  on  circuit,  but  there  were  no  Methodists. 
Elders  were  ordained,  but  there  were  no  Presby- 
terians. Congregations  were  autonomous,  but 
there  were  no  Congregationalists  or  Independents. 
Galatia  was  a  diocese,  but  there  were  no  Episco- 
palians. Paul  was  probably  unmarried,  and  he 
certainly  bound  himself  by  vows,  but  he  was  not 
a  monk  or  a  friar.  The  good  and  true  in  each 
group  everywhere  was  shared  by  all.  Many 
famous  countries  received  the  Gospel,  but  none  of 
them  was  honoured  by  a  national  or  geographical 
church.  There  was  a  Church  of  Rome, — indeed, 
several — but  the  Church  was  not  bent  upon 
dominion.  Nor  were  there  Anglican  and  Ar- 
menian and  Greek  and  Russian  Churches,  assert- 
ing their  nationalism.  As  the  faith  was  proclaimed 
in  many  languages  to  Parthians  and  Medes  and 
Elamites  and  dvvellers  in  Mesopotamia,  so  was 
there  afterwards  One  Body  of  Christ,  in  Whom 
Jew  and  Greek,  Barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  and 
free  were  united.  Every  Christian  was  equally 
the  elect  or  chosen  child  of  the  One  Eternal  Father 
and,  as  such,  was  brother  or  sister  of  every  other 
Christian. 

In  the  early  Church  there  was  doubtless  variety. 
Each  little  group  that  met  for  worship  had  its  own 
problems,  its  own  hopes  and  joys.  Paul  did  not 
write  to  Corinth  where  the  trouble  was  sensuality 
as  he  wrote  to  Galatia,  where  there  was  ritualism, 
or  to  Philippi,  where  he  had  no  fault  to  find.  He 
did  not  treat  every  church  alike,  he  allowed  for 


THE  ONE  UNITED  FAMILY  17 

individuality,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  declared 
that  all  were  one  in  Christ  Jesus.  The  Corinthian 
and  Galatian  and  Philippian  must  greet  one  an- 
other as  brethren,  not  as  rivals  and  parties. 

Even  in  the  upper  room  at  Jerusalem,  the 
Church,  though  small  in  numbers,  included  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  people.  A  v^ell-to-do 
woman  like  Mary  of  Magdala,  doubtless  accom- 
panied by  Joanna  and  Susannah,  who  were  ladies 
from  Herod's  court,  associated  intimately  with 
Mary,  the  widow  of  a  carpenter.  Nicodemus  and 
his  friend,  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  though  members 
of  the  Sanhedrin,  accepted  the  leadership  of  fisher- 
men like  Peter  and  John.  Simon,  the  zealot,  con- 
sorted with  Matthew  the  publican.  As  the  Church 
grew,  so  were  these  contrasts  multiplied.  Beggars 
who  had  been  cripples  worshipped  side  by  side 
with  landlords  who  had  sold  their  estates.  Onesi- 
mus,  the  runaway  Phrygian  slave,  was  pardoned 
by  Philemon,  the  master  whom  he  had  defrauded. 
A  jailer  would  bathe  the  wounds  inflicted  by  him 
on  his  convicts.  A  tent-maker  in  chains  would 
preach  to  Caesar's  household,  and  to  the  courtiers 
of  the  Asmonean  Prince,  Aristobulus.  The  same 
message  stirred  Babylon,  in  decay;  Galatia,  in 
superstition;  Ephesus,  in  idolatry;  Athens,  with 
her  philosophy;  Rome,  with  her  poHtics;  and 
Ethiopia,  sunk  in  savagery.  Somehow  or  other, 
the  emissaries  of  peace  were — then  as  now — often 
well  received  by  soldiers.  Peter  got  on  excellently 
with  Cornelius,  the  centurion  of  Caesarea.  And 
Paul  was  kindly  treated  by  the  officer  who  escorted 
him,  over  sea  and  land,  to  Rome. 

In  one  small  town,  you  may  see  to-day  many 


18  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

churches  and  chapels,  each  separate  from  the 
other.  But,  in  apostoHc  times,  the  Christians, 
though  scattered  abroad  by  persecution,  remained 
one  family.  Paul  would  travel  a  thousand  miles 
gathering  money  from  wealthy  communities  like 
Philippi,  for  distribution  in  Judea,  where  already 
the  nemesis  of  the  Crucifixion,  culminating  in  the 
ruin  of  Jerusalem,  was  casting  the  shadow  of 
poverty  over  the  people.  What  drew  that  ever- 
widening  circle  together  was  not  the  pressure  of 
creeds  and  rubrics  on  the  circumference,  but  the 
attraction  of  Him  Who  was  the  Centre.  Yet  there 
was  much  variety  of  teaching.  While  Paul  in- 
sisted upon  justification  by  faith,  James  held  that 
faith  without  works  is  dead.  Both  views  were 
right,  but  clearly  there  was  here  every  chance  of 
a  split.  Again,  Paul  differed  sharply  from  Barna- 
bas over  John  Mark,  and  every  one  knew  it — there 
was  no  attempt  to  conceal  the  trouble — but  the 
Church  of  Cyprus,  where  Barnabas  laboured,  re- 
mained none  the  less  a  normal  Christian  com- 
munion, without  adjective  or  qualification;  and  it 
was  Paul  who,  years  later,  begged  that  John  Mark 
might  relieve  his  loneliness  with  Luke  in  Rome 
because  he  was  profitable  in  the  ministry.  Over 
questions  like  eating  with  Gentiles,  Paul  withstood 
Peter  at  Antioch,  face  to  face,  because  he  was  to 
be  blamed;  yet  Peter  was  the  apostle  who,  in  his 
letters  to  the  faithful,  expressly  insisted  that  Paul's 
writings,  though  sometimes  hard  to  be  understood, 
were  truly  inspired.  These  men  had  to  solve  prob- 
lems of  great  delicacy,  like  the  election  of  an 
apostle,  or  the  apportionment  of  money  between 
Grecian  and  Hebrew  widows,  or  the  admission  of 


THE  ONE  UNITED  FAMILY  19 

Gentile  converts  with  or  without  circumcision ;  but, 
through  it  all,  they  managed  to  be  "  of  one  ac- 
cord " — "  of  one  mind."  They  had  not  so  much 
the  same  use  or  ceremonial  as  the  "  same  love," 
working  in  the  One  Body,  through  one  faith,  to- 
wards one  hope,  by  one  baptism,  towards  one  Lord 
and  Father  of  all. 

This  unity  of  the  Spirit  was  the  more  wonderful 
because  the  believers  were  of  our  common  clay — 
men  of  like  passions  with  others.  Peter  had  denied 
his  Master  thrice.  Thomas  had  doubted.  Nico- 
demus  had  come  to  the  Lord  by  night.  Seven 
devils  had  dwelt  in  Mary  Magdalene.  Only  yes- 
terday, as  it  seemed,  the  disciples  had  intrigued  for 
preeminence,  had  rebuffed  the  children,  had  shrunk 
from  the  Cross,  had  demanded  the  visible  kingdom. 
Among  them  there  were  Ananias  and  Sapphira, 
who  kept  back  part  of  the  price;  Simon  Magus, 
who  offered  money  for  the  grace  of  God ;  Eutychus, 
who  slept  during  a  sermon;  Rhoda,  the  excitable 
housemaid;  Saul,  with  his  bigotry;  Peter,  with  his 
prejudices;  Mark,  with  his  irresolution;  the  Cor- 
inthian women  with  their  gossip.  There  were 
Galatians,  bewitched  by  Rabbis;  Thessalonians 
who  put  a  date  to  the  Second  Coming;  and  Ephe- 
sians  who  lost  their  first  love.  Judaizers  from 
Jerusalem  wanted  to  lay  burdens  on  the  Gentiles, 
which  was  too  strict;  while  at  Pergamos,  the 
Christians  ate  things  sacrificed  to  idols,  which  was 
too  lax.  At  Thyatira,  the  unwary  were  seduced 
by  a  prophetess,  Jezebel.  And  the  Laodiceans 
were  neither  hot  nor  cold.  Even  in  Sardis  their 
works  were  not  perfect;  in  Philadelphia  they  had 
but  a  little  strength.     Busybodies  went  about  mak- 


20  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

ing  trouble.  Women — some  of  them  widows — 
were  ostentatious  in  dress.  Rich  men  craved  for 
special  honour.  And  pious  men  struck  straight  at 
home-life  by  advocating  celibacy. 

Yet  amid  these  cross-currents,  unity  was  still 
maintained.  At  Corinth,  Paul  might  have  to  de- 
fend the  Resurrection.  To  the  elect  lady,  John 
might  have  to  suggest  that  persons  who  wilfully 
deny  the  Christ  cannot  expect  Christian  hos- 
pitality. With  fearful  emphasis,  Timothy  would 
be  warned  against  seducing  spirits,  and  Jude, 
earnestly  contending  for  the  faith,  would  denounce 
the  ungodly  who  creep  in  unawares — the  dreamers 
who  defile  the  flesh.  But,  however  perilous  the 
times,  the  freedom  of  the  Gospel  was  preferred  to 
an  external  uniformity.  The  only  discipline  was 
the  constraining  love  of  Christ,  and  it  was  suf- 
ficient. What  they  valued  was  "  the  glorious  lib- 
erty of  the  children  of  God  " — the  liberty  which  is 
itself  a  law,  as  in  a  family,  where  the  tie  is  af- 
fection. 

The  Body  of  Christ  was  One;  He  was  alone  the 
Head,  and  the  rest  were  members  one  of  another. 
Some  were  like  hands  or  feet,  or  even  humbler 
organs  of  sense,  but  all  were  necessary,  all  were 
honourable,  and  a  wound  inflicted  on  one  of  them 
hurt  the  entire  community.  And  so  was  it  with 
the  communities  of  saints.  The  Churches  of  Asia 
were  seven.  They  shone  severally,  like  lamps  on 
a  lampstand.  For  each  there  was  an  angel  or  mes- 
senger, bright  and  kindling  as  a  star,  held  eternally 
in  the  hand  of  God.  Each  Church  had  done  its 
own  works,  faced  its  own  problems,  recorded  its 
own  successes  or  failures,  and  the  ear  of  each  was 


THE  OJSfE  UNITED  FAMILY  21 

invited,  severally,  for  an  individual  vi^arning  or 
encouragement.  But  the  Voice  that  spoke  v^as 
one,  the  Eye  that  saw  vv^as  one,  and  one  also  was 
the  sevenfold  Spirit.  To  Ephesus,  God  was  the 
Presence,  walking  amid  the  candlesticks.  To 
Smyrna,  He  was  the  Resurrection  that  lives 
through  death.  To  Pergamos,  He  was  the  sharp 
two-edged  sword  that  smites  the  evil.  To  Thya- 
tira,  He  was  our  nature — feet  and  eyes — in  glory. 
To  Sardis,  He  was  Light  amid  darkness.  To 
Philadelphia,  He  was  the  Key  of  Destiny;  and  to 
Laodicea,  He  was  Amen,  Who  keeps  His  promises. 
But  amid  this  solemn  variety  of  vision,  there  rose, 
solitary  and  tremendous,  what  may  be  called  the 
Personality  of  Jehovah — the  great  I  AM — ordain- 
ing His  own  rewards  for  him  who  overcomes — the 
tree  of  life,  that  satisfies — the  hidden  manna  and 
white  stone  with  a  new  name,  known  only  to  him 
who  receives  it — power  over  nations — clean  rai- 
ment— safety  in  the  second  death — the  pillar  in  the 
temple — the  seat  on  the  throne.  What  wonder  if 
Christians,  so  taught,  maintained  their  unity? 
Three  thousand  might  be  added  to  their  numbers 
in  a  few  days — men  and  women  of  every  clime — 
but  they  had  all  things  in  common  because  fear 
came  on  every  soul  and  a  joy  which  all  could  share. 


Ill 

THE  MODESTY  OF  THE  SAINTS 

IN  the  Middle  Ages,  people  were  so  grateful  to 
the  early  Christians  that,  wherever  the  name  of 
a  disciple  is  mentioned  in  the  New  Testament,  they 
put  the  word  "  saint "  as  prefix,  and,  in  their  pic- 
tures, surrounded  the  head  with  a  halo.  Among 
the  apostles,  no  such  practices  prevailed.  Great 
lamentation  was  made  for  Stephen,  but  he  re- 
mained Stephen.  Of  him  as  of  the  Saviour,  no 
relics  were  preserved.  There  were  no  pilgrimages 
to  his  tomb — no  masses  for  the  repose  of  his  soul — 
no  prayers  associated  with  his  memory.  When 
James  was  martyred,  he  was  mourned  on  the  same 
condition,  and  when  Paul  wrote  to  Corinth  and 
again  to  Salonica  about  those  who  had  departed 
this  life,  he  said  not  a  word  about  the  honours 
which,  with  a  challengeable  reverence,  have  been 
bestowed  by  later  generations.  In  discussing  his 
own  approaching  end,  he  never  suggested  that 
after  death  he  would  assist  his  friends  by  inter- 
cession. Be  it  life  or  death,  Christ  alone  was  to 
be  magnified.  His  hand  alone  conferred  the  crown 
or  halo  of  righteousness.  The  multitude  in  white 
robes,  who  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  do  not 
rival  His  preeminence,  but  serve  Him  day  and 
night.     To  Him  alone,  the  elders  render  that  in- 

22 


THE  MODESTY  OF  THE  SAINTS  23 

cense  which  is  a  symbol  of  the  prayers  of  saints. 
And  when  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  we  read 
of  Abel  and  Abraham  and  David  and  the  great 
crowd  of  witnesses,  it  is  because  every  eye  looks 
towards  Him. 

In  that  upper  room  at  Jerusalem,  what  made 
people  wonder  was  not  a  halo,  imposed  from  with- 
out by  the  art  or  authority  of  man,  but  a  flame, 
kindling  within,  by  the  divine  Spirit  of  God.  On 
every  one  of  them  that  fire  burned.  Every  dis- 
ciple, without  exception,  was  thus  fully  a  saint, 
women  as  well  as  men,  for,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
neither  sex  is  excluded  by  the  narrative.  I  like  to 
think  that  whereas  each  of  them  could  see  the 
flame  over  his  neighbour's  head,  none  could  ad- 
mire it  over  his  own.  As  Paul  put  it,  years  after- 
wards, each  esteemed  other  better  than  himself. 
Indeed,  of  the  actual  apostles,  one-half  disappear 
at  this  point  from  the  recorded  history.  The  book 
which  we  call  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  should  be 
entitled  more  accurately  the  deeds  of  the  Spirit. 
Not  that  these  noble-hearted  men  were  unfaithful 
in  their  service.  They  were  like  great  artists  who 
leave  us  pictures  without  a  signature,  as  if  to  imply 
that  their  inspiration  belongs  wholly  to  the  one 
eternal  Author.  They  drove  their  mines  far  be- 
low ground,  declining  advertisement,  and  while 
you  will  not  find  their  names  on  posters  that  meet 
the  eye,  those  names  are  graven  none  the  less,  as 
John  declared,  on  the  foundations  of  the  city  of 
God. 

An  exquisite  illustration  of  how  tender-hearted 
they  were,  how  freely  they  forgave  one  another,  is 
found  in  that  opening  scene,  in  the  upper  room. 


24  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

when  Peter  stood  up  to  address  them.  All  were 
conscious  that  they  had  forsaken  the  Lord  and 
fled.  Not  one  uttered  a  taunt  against  the  comrade 
who  had  been  found  out.  They  distinguished  at 
once  between  the  unhallowed  remorse  of  Judas, 
and  Peter's  repentance.  What  changed  Peter's 
despair  into  a  saving  faith  was  the  Lord's  look,  His 
message,  His  personal  interview.  And  how  dif- 
ferent would  have  been  the  drama  if  backbiting 
had  occurred.  In  Paul's  astonishing  words  to  the 
Ephesians,  the  Holy  Spirit  would  have  been 
"  grieved."  Wind  and  fire  are  symbols  of  God — 
strong  and  terrible  symbols — but  how  quickly 
sensitive  to  atmospheric  conditions ! 

These  men  and  women,  who  are  to  us  so  illus- 
trious, were,  for  the  most  part,  rustic  and  un- 
lettered. They  spoke  the  Galilean  dialect — as  in 
England  we  should  say,  Yorkshire  or  Somerset; 
and  Paul,  who  could  hold  his  own  with  kings  and 
statesmen,  tells  us  plainly  that  God  chooses  simple 
folk — not  the  wise  and  learned — to  be  His  fellow- 
workers.  If  Peter  wrote  letters  that  are  now  im- 
mortal in  literature,  if  John's  vision  revealed  for 
all  time  the  mysteries  of  Heaven  and  Hell  and 
Destiny,  it  was  because  these  men,  with  no  discern- 
ible natural  gifts,  were  educated  in  the  Spirit. 
Their  only  books  were  the  Old  Testament,  and,  if 
limited,  their  reading  was  the  more  thorough. 
Their  university  was  life — their  college  was  ex- 
perience— their  tutors  were  hardship  and  danger. 
Genius  was  only  their  final  reward — a  gift  from 
Him  in  Whom  they  drew  every  breath.  It  was 
the  reward  of  the  Spirit  in  which  they  read  and 
pondered.     Where    we    are    critical,    they    were 


THE  MODESTY  OF  THE  SAINTS  25 

reverent.  Where  we  look  for  mistakes,  they 
sought  for  sustenance.  And  they  were  modest 
enough  to  admit  that  God  has  secrets  which  are 
not  revealed:  that  the  riches  of  Christ  are  un- 
searchable: and  that — as  Paul  warned  the  Colos- 
sians — it  is  the  fleshly  mind,  puffed  up,  which  in- 
trudes. They  accepted  the  fact  that  we  only  see 
through  a  glass  darkly — we  only  know  in  part. 
And  instead  of  adding  to  the  Gospel,  they  thus  en- 
deavoured to  spread  it.  Where  so  many,  like  the 
Athenians,  speculated  on  any  new  notion  that  pre- 
sented itself,  humility  made  the  Christians  prac- 
tical and  helpful. 

They  did  not  take  the  view  that  one  belief  is  as 
good  as  another.  On  the  contrary,  John  told  the 
elect  lady  that  she  should  neither  extend  hos- 
pitality nor  wish  Godspeed  to  those  who  bring  not 
the  teaching  of  Christ.  Paul  told  the  Thessa- 
lonians  to  withdraw  themselves  from  all  who  walk 
disorderly.  Jude  utters  a  fearful  denunciation  of 
dreamers  who  defile  the  flesh,  despise  dominion, 
and  speak  evil  of  dignities.  Timothy  is  urged  to 
combat  professors  who  creep  into  houses  and  lead 
captive  silly  women.  Peter,  remembering  what 
our  Lord  said  about  false  Christs,  pronounces  swift 
destruction  against  all  who  traffic  in  damnable 
heresies.  It  is  for  each  of  us  to  try  the  spirits  and 
see  how  far  they  come  within  the  true  faith,  once 
delivered  to  us.  The  mere  fact  that  Theosophy 
and  the  Occult  and  Psychism  and  Astrology  are 
taught  among  us,  does  not  imply  that  Peter  and 
Paul  and  Jude  would  have  tolerated  these  beliefs. 

It  was  not  that  they  objected  to  knowledge.  As 
a    historian,    Luke    is    unsurpassed    for    accurate 


26  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

sequence,  and  his  description  of  Paul's  voyaige, 
with  its  numerous  nautical  terms,  like  south  wind, 
Euroclydon,  using  helps,  undergirding  the  ship, 
striking  sail,  sounding,  casting  anchor,  loosing  the 
rudder-bands,  hoisting  the  mainsail,  and  so  on,  has 
been  the  admiration  of  expert  sailors.  And  Luke 
was  also  a  doctor,  who  could  talk  about  "  the  ankle- 
bones  "  of  a  healed  cripple :  the  precise  injuries  of 
Judas  Iscariot  when  he  fell :  the  exact  malady 
which  destroyed  Herod  the  king.  Paul,  too,  al- 
though he  was  town-bred,  and  lacked  the  exquisite 
appreciation  of  flowers  and  birds  and  the  country- 
side, which  we  find  elsewhere  in  Scripture,  could 
discuss  natural-religion,  as  we  call  it,  with  the  men 
of  Lystra,  and  comparative-religion  with  the  men 
of  Athens.  The  Bereans  were  more  noble  than 
the  Thessalonians,  precisely  because  of  this  readi- 
ness of  mind — this  searching  of  the  Bible — this 
refusal  to  accept  as  truth  what  was  not  so  proved. 
But  with  sorcery,  as  of  Elymas,  or  Simon  Magus, 
or  the  poor  slave-girl  of  Philippi,  the  apostles 
would  make  no  terms.  They  saw,  at  once,  that 
one  of  its  motives  was  greed.  The  girl  brought 
her  masters  much  gain.  Simon  Magus  regarded 
the  Holy  Ghost  as  an  investment.  And  the  talkers 
and  deceivers,  condemned  in  the  letter  to  Titus, 
whose  mouths  must  be  stopped,  subverted  whole 
houses  for  filthy  lucre's  sake.  The  point  of  Jude's 
denunciation  was  that  these  ungodly  men  "  ran 
greedily  for  reward,"  and  of  some  modern  cults 
this  also  may  be  suspected.  Their  pontiffs,  also, 
as  Peter  says,  would  make  merchandise  of  us. 

The   other  motive   for   these    curious   arts  was 
pride — that    deadliest    sin    which    ruined    Satan. 


THE  MODESTY  OF  THE  SAINTS  2T 

Paul,  in  his  letter  to  Timothy,  compared  these  men 
with  Jannes  and  Jambres,  who  were,  it  is  believed, 
the  sorcerers  in  Egypt  who  chiefly  withstood 
Moses.  To  Jude,  they  were  as  Korah,  who  re- 
volted against  the  ordinances  of  the  Tabernacle; 
or  Cain,  who  as  John  tells  us,  slew  his  brother  out 
of  religious  jealousy.  The  story  of  Balaam,  with 
its  disclosures  of  avarice  and  obduracy,  much  in- 
fluenced the  disciples,  and  is  mentioned  as  a  warn- 
ing, both  in  Jude  and  in  the  apocalyptic  letter  to 
Thyatira.  And,  most  interesting  of  all,  is  the 
reference  by  Jude  to  Michael,  the  Archangel,  who 
would  not  take  it  upon  himself  even  to  accuse 
Satan,  but  merely  said,  "  The  Lord  rebuke  thee." 
Even  among  archangels,  therefore,  the  saving 
virtue  was  humility. 

Propagandists,  without  humility,  were,  in  Jude's 
words — spots  in  the  love-feast,  clouds  without 
water,  trees  without  fruit,  raging  waves  of  the 
sea,  wandering  stars,  for  whom  is  reserved  the 
blackness  of  darkness  forever.  In  Paul's  view, 
they  were  traitors,  heavy,  and  "  high-minded,"  or — 
to  quote  Alford's  rendering  —  besotted  with 
pride — "  unruly  and  vain,"  are  other  of  Paul's 
adjectives.  And,  coupled  with  such  a  mental  atti- 
tude, thus  condemned,  was  always  the  peril  of 
moral  disaster.  Nameless  vices  are  indicated,  and 
Peter  and  Jude  refer  to  the  fate  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah. 

In  the  disciples,  we  thus  see  that  humility  waS: 
linked  with  strength  and  authority.     Paul  would 
declare  that  whoever  preaches  another  Gospel  was 
Anathema  Maranatha.     Yet  when   struck   in   the 
mouth,   and   so  betrayed  into  a  hasty  word,   he 


28  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

meekly  apologized  to  a  persecuting  priest.  He 
healed  a  man  at  Lystra,  and  a  moment  afterwards 
said  that  he  and  Barnabas  were  men  of  like  pas- 
sions with  pagans.  Peter  upraised  the  lame 
beggar,  and  instantly  denied  that  the  power  was 
his.  He  saw  a  vision,  and,  at  once,  said  to  the 
kneeling  Cornelius,  "  Stand  up  " — no  more  genu- 
flexions— "  I  also  am  a  man."  What  may  have 
saved  Corinth  from  schism  was  the  tactful  with- 
drawal of  Apollos  from  a  too  popular  ministry.  No 
man  stood  more  firmly  than  Paul  for  the  principle 
that  the  Gentiles  need  not  be  circumcised.  In- 
deed, it  was  because  he  was  accused  of  leading 
Trophimus,  the  Ephesian,  past  the  wall  of  partition 
and  into  the  Temple,  that  he  was  arrested  and 
ultimately  lost  his  life.  Yet  in  the  case  of  Timothy, 
whose  father  was  a  Greek,  and  his  mother,  a 
Jewess,  Paul — to  mitigate  hostility — applied  the 
rite,  and  Timothy  humbly  submitted.  Indeed,  in 
his  desire  to  be  all  things  to  all  men,  Paul,  in  visit- 
ing Jerusalem,  laid  aside  his  controversies  with 
the  Judaizers,  and,  at  the  request  of  James,  bound 
himself  with  four  others,  in  a  Nazarite  vow,  which 
was  publicly  ratified,  shaved  his  head,  and  so  was 
made  of  no  reputation. 

It  was  the  Master's  mind  that  led  these  men. 
As  a  contrast  what  impressed  them  about 
Gamaliel's  speech  in  the  Sanhedrin  was  his  allusion 
to  Theudas,  who  boasted  himself  to  be  somebody, 
but  was  brought  to  nought;  and  Judas  of  Galilee — 
who  revolted  against  the  Roman  census — in  both 
of  which  cases  the  followers  were  dispersed  or 
scattered.  It  was  humility  that  reconciled  Peter 
with  Paul,  and  Paul  with  John  Mark.     When  the 


THE  MODESTY  OF  THE  SAINTS  29 

widows  murmured,  it  was  humility  that  led  the 
apostles  to  institute  deacons.  And  when  the  Chris- 
tians in  the  Balkans  suggested  that  Paul  derived 
advantage  from  the  collections  for  the  poor  in 
Judea,  it  was  humility  that  enabled  him  to  appoint 
trustees  for  the  money,  separate  from  himself. 
Yet  there  was  no  sacrifice  of  dignity.  Timothy 
might  be  circumcised,  but  let  no  one  despise  his 
youth.  Paul  might  be  tormented  by  disease,  but 
let  him  tremble  who  sneered  at  his  mean  appear- 
ance or  denied  his  Roman  citizenship.  Peter  and 
John  might  be  wholly  dependent  on  the  power  of 
the  Spirit,  but  woe  to  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  who 
in  their  presence   trifled  with  the  truth. 


/ 


IV 

THE  HAPPINESS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL 

THE  Church  to-day  is  puzzled  because  the 
number  of  her  children  does  not  increase. 
We  ask  why  it  was  that  disciples,  though  few  at 
the  outset,  multiplied  so  rapidly?  In  one  day  at 
Jerusalem  about  three  thousand  converts  were 
won,  and,  later,  we  read  of  live  thousand,  with 
multitudes  of  men  and  women,  added  daily.  For 
a  time  the  movement  was  thus  popular.  It  found 
favour  with  the  people,  some  of  whom  swam  with 
the  stream.  But  persecution,  when  it  arose,  did 
not  hinder  it.  By  their  efforts  to  stamp  out  the 
fire  in  Jerusalem,  the  priests  scattered  sparks 
throughout  the  Roman  Empire.  Faith  was  kindled 
in  the  least  likely  places — at  Ephesus,  where 
Diana-worship  was  a  vested  interest;  at  Corinth, 
with  its  race-course;  at  Csesarea,  where  Herod 
patronized  the  brutalities  of  the  amphitheatre;  in 
Samaria,  reeking  with  prejudice;  and  even  in 
Lycaonia,  where  the  ignorant  villagers  believed  in 
Jupiter  and  Mercury. 

Sometimes  a  preacher,  like  Philip,  who  is  now 
recognized  as  illustrious,  spread  the  cause,  but  not 
always.  Churches  often  sprang  into  existence,  as 
it  were  by  spontaneous  combustion.  At  Damascus, 
and  in  the  desert,  there  were  Christians  waiting  to 

30 


THE  HAPPINESS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL     31 

receive  the  converted  Saul.  To  Antioch  faith 
came,  not  only  direct  from  Jerusalem,  but  from 
Cyrene  in  North  Africa  and  from  Cyprus;  al- 
though, at  the  time,  this  island  had  not  .yet  been 
visited  by  Paul  and  Barnabas.  There  is  not  a  hint 
that  Peter  founded  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  Paul's 
great  Epistle  to  the  Christians  in  that  city  is,  by 
its  omissions,  almost  proof  to  the  contrary.  Years 
before  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  v^^as  taken  under 
escort  to  Cesar's  courts,  there  were  communities 
of  Christians,  organized  vs^ith  elders,  unordained  by 
any  known  apostle,  and  meeting  in  residences,  like 
that  of  Priscilla  and  Aquila. 

From  the  first,  the  converts  had — in  a  work- 
man's phrase — to  pay  their  footing.  Even  at  the 
best  of  times,  it  always  cost  something  to  become  a 
Christian.  They  were  baptized,  and  every  one 
knew  it.  To  the  apostles  they  went  daily  for  in- 
struction. They  prayed.  Revising  their  friend- 
ships, they  broke  bread  with  one  another.  They 
shared  what  we  call  real  property — that  is,  their 
lands  and  houses,  which  were  sold,  and  the  money 
paid  to  those  who  were  in  need.  They  endured 
hardship,  imprisonment,  flogging,  and  violent 
death.  Many  of  them  —  like  Timothy  —  sur- 
rendered the  amenities  of  home  life,  and  sallied 
forth  as  missionaries.  And  the  question  for  us  is : 
What  made  it  worth  while? 

The  churches  grew  because  the  Christians  were 
happier  than  other  people.  The  Temple  gleamed 
with  marble  and  gold,  but  it  was  rent  l3y  sectarian 
controversy.  Athens  was  full  of  idols,  but  Athens 
was  frivolous.  The  first  Agrippa  dazzled  the 
populace  with  his  robes,  but  was  eaten  of  worms. 


32  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

The  second  Agrippa,  despite  all  his  pomp,  was 
almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian.  Saul  was  a 
rising  politician,  yet  his  career  hurt  him  like  kick- 
ing against  the  goad.  Gallio,  who  governed 
Achaia,  had  wisdom,  but  it  was  only  the  wisdom  of 
the  cynic.  At  mention  of  righteousness  and  judg- 
ment to  come,  Festus,  the  viceroy,  trembled.  Nero 
was — as  Paul  put  it — fierce  as  a  lion,  but  his  only 
realm  was  misery.  Amid  the  pomp  of  circum- 
stance— and  the  unhappiness — of  a  great  military 
despotism,  the  disciples  with  their  praises  of  God, 
shed  abroad  a  sudden  gladness,  and  this  radiance 
of  joy  was  infectious. 

Some  large  meetings  were  held;  but,  in  the 
main,  the  glow  of  happiness  was  manifest,  not  in 
the  excitement  of  revivals,  but  in  individuals,  and 
often  under  the  most  discouraging  circumstances. 
The  cripple,  whose  ankle-bones  received  strength, 
leaped  like  an  hart.  At  Philip's  preaching  there 
was  great  joy,  even  in  Samaria.  The  Ethiopian 
eunuch,  on  accepting  the  Gospel,  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing.  Flogged,  by  order  of  the  Sanhedrin, 
the  apostles  also  praised  the  Saviour;  and  when 
tried  for  his  life,  Stephen  confronted  the  court  with 
a  face  like  an  angel's.  Thrust  into  the  inner  dun- 
geon of  a  prison,  their  bodies  bleeding  from  many 
stripes  and  their  limbs  stiff  in  the  stocks,  Paul  and 
Silas  sang  hymns  through  a  sleepless  night.  In 
the  earthquake  that  followed,  as  in  the  shipwreck 
off  Malta,  Paul's  preeminence  lay  simply  in  this, 
that  he  was  the  happiest  person  amid  the  tumult. 
When  the  Philippian  jailer  joined  the  Christians, 
he  also  and  his  family  were  infected  with  the  same 
joy.     How  he  bathed  his  prisoners'  wounds,  and 


THE  HAPPINESS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL     33 

gave  them  breakfast  at  his  own  table,  is  a  story  so 
dehghtful  in  its  cheeriness  that  it  Hves  on,  a 
favourite  with  us  all.  The  long,  grave  face,  which 
is  our  idea  of  religious  etiquette,  does  not  appear 
in  these  records,  except  among  the  Pagans. 

Yet  these  Christians  did  not  live  in  a  Golden 
Age.  The  Jews  had  lost  their  freedom  and  were 
ruled  by  foreign  tyrants.  The  grim  handmaidens 
of  justice  were  the  scourge,  or  knout,  the  rod,  the 
chain  and  the  cross,  and  from  all  of  these  the  dis- 
ciples suffered  their  full  share.  The  "  powers- 
that-be "  patronized  idolatry,  which  lay  like  a 
brand  upon  the  sports  and  pastimes  and  even  on 
the  food  of  the  nations.  The  sick  and  wounded 
were  left  to  their  fate  and  the  poor  begged  for 
bread.  Commerce  and  vice  were  upheld  by  sla- 
very and  black  arts  abounded.  The  apostles  did 
not  ignore  these  things.  At  Samaria,  at  Paphos, 
at  Philippi,  and  at  Ephesus,  they  fought  relent- 
lessly against  the  sorcerers.  To  them,  as  to  our 
missionaries,  idolatry  was  not  a  historical  phase  to 
be  studied,  but  an  active  foe  to  be  conquered;  and 
their  attitude  was  not  that  of  Naaman,  who  bowed 
in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  but  of  Daniel,  who  would 
touch  no  dainties  consecrated  to  the  gods.  It  was 
the  Gospel,  and  only  the  Gospel,  that  changed 
Onesimus,  the  slave,  with  his  master,  Philemon, 
into  "  brothers  beloved."  Against  immorality,  the 
disciples  spoke  with  uncompromising  bluntness, 
and  James  gives  us  a  terrible  picture  of  corrupt 
wealth,  derived  from  the  sweating  system.  It  was 
in  no  garden  of  Eden  that  these  men  cultivated 
happiness.  All  day  and  every  day,  they  were  in 
the   world,   but   they  were   not   of  it.     They   felt 


34  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

themselves  to  be  a  peculiar  or  separate  people;  and 
as  pilgrims  and  sojourners,  they  had  no  abiding 
city.  Yet,  unlike  the  exiles  by  the  waters  of 
Babylon,  they  did  not  refuse  to  sing  the  songs  of 
Zion  in  a  strange  land.  Instead  of  hanging  their 
harps  on  the  willow-tree,  they  joined  together  in 
psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs,  making 
melody  in  their  hearts,  as  a  contrast  to  discords 
beyond. 

No  wonder  that  they  yearned  for  God*s  King- 
dom to  be  set  up  on  earth,  here  and  now.  They 
were  Utopians  before  Sir  Thomas  More — Social- 
ists before  Estlin  Carpenter — Internationalists  be- 
fore President  Wilson.  John  tells  us  that  this 
world,  with  its  lusts,  or  desires,  passeth  away — it 
cannot  last — and  he  saw  in  his  vision  a  perfect  City, 
holy,  in  which  God  reigns.  But  in  the  meantime, 
each  of  us  must,  as  he  puts  it,  overcome  the  world 
that  now  is — there  must  be  wars  and  tumults, 
vials  of  wrath.  It  was  amid  darkness  that  Christ's 
altruists  shone  as  lights.  Slavery  should  be  sup- 
pressed; but,  as  a  slave.  Uncle  Tom  must  be  com- 
forted. War  must  end;  but,  in  the  dug-out,  the 
soldier  needs  the  peace  that  passeth  understand- 
ing. Slums  should  be  rebuilt;  but,  even  an  un- 
sanitary tenement  has  been  transformed  by  what 
the  Rescue  Missioner,  in  his  old-fashioned  way, 
calls,  and  rightly  calls,  solvation — the  "  salving  "  of 
men  and  women,  who  are  on  the  rocks.  When 
Paul  asked  the  Philippians  to  rejoice  always,  they — 
remembering  what  had  been  his  shameful  treat- 
ment in  their  town — had  to  acknowledge  that  he 
knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 

No  one  has  ever  had  to  combat  with  a  more 


THE  HAPPINESS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL     35 

difficult  temperament  than  Paul's.  Some  scholars 
are  convinced  that  he  suffered  from  epilepsy.  As- 
suredly he  was  high-strung  and  so  sensitive  that 
it  cost  him  tears  to  write  a  stiff  letter,  like  his 
first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  Yet  he  was  not 
morose — he  was  no  pessimist.  He  believed  in/ 
victory.  Like  James,  he  counted  it  joy  even  tO; 
fall  into  temptations,  because  trial  worked  pa- 
tience and  patience,  the  capacity  to  suffer,  was 
worth  while,  because  there  is  such  patience  in 
God.  According  to  Peter,  this  patience  is  more 
precious  than  fine  gold,  because  suffering  meant  to 
him  something  more  than  a  service  or  a  sacrifice  for 
Christ's  sake.  Suffering  helped  him  to  understand 
Christ — as  if  to  say,  "  He  and  I  have  felt  one  pain — 
have  been  crucified  together — will  share  one 
glory."  To  men  and  women  who  had  once  for- 
saken Him  and  fled,  or  actually  persecuted  Him  in 
His  followers,  this  supreme  chance  of  risking 
things  with  Him  and  paying  the  ultimate  penalty 
evoked  the  same  rapture  with  which  young  sol- 
diers go  forth  to  die  in  their  country's  cause. 
Christianity  was  not  so  much  attending  Church  as 
volunteering  for  the  draft,  embarking  on  a  trans- 
port, creeping  forward,  one  by  one  over  No-Man's- 
Land.  They  wished  to  win  territory — a  little 
here — a  little  there — and  their  zeal  released  them 
from  the  destroying  cares,  the  sordid  rivalries,  the 
wretched  lusts  which  war  against  the  soul.  I  am 
told  that  in  Britain,  during  the  war,  the  people 
have  had  no  time  to  be  ill,  and  that,  as  labour 
increased,  so  did  insanity  decline.  The  early 
Christians  had  no  time  to  be  miserable.  The  sur- 
plus of  energy  which,  in  others,  developed  sin,  in 


36  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

them,  was  consecrated  to  service — to  worship — to 
prayer.  Their  joy  was  thus  the  scientific  product 
of  a  Hfe  well  balanced.  It  was  the  song  of  the 
wheel  that  turns  evenly  on  its  axis — held  to  a 
Centre,  like  the  planets  which  live  in  the  light 
of  the  sun. 

Hence  their  fondness  for  the  word,  heaven.  The 
Father  to  Whom  they  prayed  was  a  Father  in 
Heaven.  The  Kingdom  to  which  they  owed  alle- 
giance was  a  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  The  seats  where 
they  sat  near  Christ  were  heavenly  places.  Heaven 
was  to  them  an  actual  and  realized  happiness. 
Heaven  was  within  them.  It  was  Paul's  happiness 
or  "  heavenly  "  disposition  that  broke  out  in  the 
astonishing  exuberance  of  his  literary  style  which 
in  an  epistle  like  his  to  the  Ephesians  gushes  forth 
in  veritable  cascades  of  joyous  eloquence, — exult- 
ant adjectives  and  triumphant  nouns  overleaping  all 
the  customary  restraints  of  grammar  and  syntax. 
Other  classical  authors  wrote  better  Greek.  Some 
scholars  have  tried  to  put  Paul's  unruly  and  re- 
sistless pen  into  such  harness.  But  the  Christians 
who  first  read  his  words  had  no  inclination  to  parse 
and  analyze  his  parentheses.  They  were  swept 
along  the  current  of  that  surging  stream  which  had 
its  source  on  Mount  Calvary  and  an  ocean  for  its 
destination. 


THE  POWER  OF  THEIR  INSPIRATION 

RELIGION  to-day  has  to  hold  her  own  amid 
Governments,  and  Armies,  and  Navies,  and 
Universities,  and  huge  industries  v^here  capital  and 
labour  are  organized  on  a  world-v^ide  scale.  Mere 
sentiment,  tradition,  respectability,  music,  elo- 
quence, are  not  enough  for  a  situation  so  exacting; 
and  if  churches — indeed,  if  Parliaments — are  to 
survive,  they  must  display  v^hat  Ruskin  has  called 
the  lamp  of  pov^er.  The  most  hostile  witnesses 
agree  that  among  the  early  Christians  such  power 
was  manifest.  ''  We  cannot  deny  it,"  said  the 
priests,  when  an  impotent  cripple  was  healed. 
"  These  men,"  complained  the  Philippians,  '*  do 
exceedingly  trouble  our  city."  "  They  turn  the 
world  upside  down,"  protested  the  Thessalonians. 
It  was  revolution,  not  by  blows,  but  by  ideas; 
and  Danton  himself  was  not  more  audacious  than 
Peter  and  John,  when — unlearned  though  they 
were — they  faced  the  Sanhedrin.  About  Stephen's 
preaching  there  was  that  which  could  not  be  re- 
sisted. And  as  for  Paul,  when  he  was  a  prisoner 
at  Rome,  chained  and  penniless,  he  faced  the 
Emperor  with  an  air  of  quiet  mastery  which  Na- 
poleon would  have  envied.  ''  Conquests !  "  wrote 
he  to  Corinth — "  we  are  more  than  conquerors." 

37 


38  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

Why  he  did  not  blush  for  the  Gospel,  or  apologize, 
was  just  this — that,  addressing  Romans  when 
Rome  was  mistress  of  civilization,  he  could  boast 
that  his  was  a  greater  power — the  power,  not  of 
Empire,  but  of  God;  the  power,  not  to  subjugate 
all  men  by  outward  force,  but  to  save  all  men  by 
inward  grace. 

It  was  no  mere  bravado.  This  Gospel  that  Paul 
declared  was  not  pretty,  or  fantastic,  or  novel.  On 
the  contrary,  as  he  told  the  Galatians,  he  was  in 
matters  of  theology  what  we  should  call  a  rigid 
conservative,  who  only  put  his  trust  in  what  he  had 
tested.  Nor  was  this  power  a  superstition.  The 
disciples  were  clear  in  their  minds  whence  it  came. 
The  considered  judgment  of  the  world  was  that 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  died  a  convicted  felon,  and  was 
buried  in  the  usual  way.  In  the  bazaars  of  Jeru- 
salem they  talked,  not  of  His  Resurrection,  but  of 
the  Iscariot's  suicide;  not  of  His  Ascension,  but  of 
that  traitor's  headlong  downfall;  not  of  a  Heart 
broken  by  love,  but  of  a  heart  shattered  by  despair; 
not  of  an  Empty  Tomb,  but  of  Aceldama,  a  field  of 
blood;  not  of  Glad  Tidings  of  great  joy  for  stran- 
gers of  every  nation,  but  of  a  graveyard  to  bury 
them  in.  Then,  as  now,  tragedies  of  soul  made 
better  copy  for  what  corresponded  to  Sunday 
newspapers  than  mere  rescues  or  conversions;  and 
it  was  against  the  whole  array  of  public  opinion 
that  Peter  declared  Jesus  to  be  a  Person  approved 
of  God.  In  view  of  His  Divinity  this  was  a  modest 
claim — it  might  have  been  said  of  many  good  men; 
but  in  his  first  sermon,  the  apostle,  step  by  step, 
proceeded  to  announce  that  this  Jesus — the  same 
Jesus — was   raised   from   the  dead   to   an   Eternal 


THE  POWER  OF  THEIR  INSPIRATION    39 

Throne,  where  He  sits  as  God's  Right-Hand  Man- 
to  adapt  our  phrase,  human,  Hke  unto  ourselves, 
yet  Divine  and  Supreme. 

Scholars  tell  us  that  the  first  v^ritten  of  all 
Christian  documents  were  Paul's  letters  to  the 
Thessalonians.  In  both  of  them  the  opening  verse 
couples  together  "  God  the  Father  "  with  '*  Our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  To  the  Galatians,  also,  Paul 
wrote  of  ''  Jesus  Christ  and  God  the  Father,"  thus 
actually  giving  precedence  on  this  occasion  to  the 
Son ;  while,  to  Timothy,  the  ascription  was,  ''  God 
Our  Saviour  and  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

So  absolutely  did  these,  His  followers,  believe 
that  all  power  had  been  given  to  Him,  in  heaven 
and  earth;  so  fully  did  they  accept  His  Word  for 
it,  that  they  preached,  not  only  Christ  the  Re- 
deemer, but  Christ  the  Creator  and  Upholder  of 
the  Universe.  In  their  earliest  anthem  there  was, 
perhaps,  a  distinction  drawn  between  the  Almighty 
and  the  Holy  Child  Jesus;  and,  in  Paul's  addresses, 
both  to  the  people  of  Lystra  and  to  the  people  of 
Athens,  there  was  not,  in  set  terms,  a  reference  to 
the  creative  work  of  the  Messiah.  But,  in  his 
epistles — for  instance,  to  the  Colossians — he  tells 
us  explicitly  that  "  God's  dear  Son  "  made  "  all 
things  that  are  in  heaven  and  that  are  in  earth, 
visible  and  invisible;"  indeed,  "He  is  before  all 
things  and  by  Him  all  things  consist."  In  the  hour 
of  death,  Stephen  so  saw  Him,  standing  in  the 
plenitude  of  His  active  authority.  The  author  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  like  John  in  his  vision, 
also  reveals  these  surpassing  glimpses  of  Christ  in 
glory.  And,  so  impressed  were  the  disciples  with 
His  omnipotent  majesty,  that  they  were  in  danger 


40  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

-I 
of  forgetting  Him  as  the  One  Whom  they  actually 
heard — saw  with  their  eyes — looked  upon  and 
handled.  The  first  heresy  to  be  denounced  was  not 
a  denial  of  His  Divinity — that  aspect  shone  forth 
unmistakable — but  of  His  actual,  personal  hu- 
manity. 

Under  the  stress  of  such  reverence,  the  disciples 
looked  to  Him,  at  the  outset,  to  do  everything  for 
them.  He  and  He  alone  w^as  to  set  up  the  King- 
dom and  He  was  to  do  it  at  once.  They  would 
have  crowned  Him  a  Czar — a  Despot.  He  welded 
them  into  a  Duma.  *'  Ye  shall  receive  power " 
was  what  He  willed — as  if  He  would  only  reign  a 
constitutional  monarch,  not  by  compulsion,  but  by 
consent.  Creation  was  a  sole  act.  In  Redemption, 
we  are,  as  Paul  explains  it.  His  partners.  He  gives 
us  salvation,  and  we  work  it  out,  with  fear  and 
trembling.  He  provides  the  armour  of  light,  but 
we  wear  it.  He  announces  the  Good  News,  but 
we  are  His  ambassadors.  He  died  on  the  Cross, 
once  for  all  men,  but  we  are  crucified  with  Him. 
We  are  fellow-workers,  joint-heirs,  brethren — 
everything  except  fellow-Saviours;  there  He  stands 
alone.  The  speed  of  a  navy  is  its  slowest  ship. 
The  strength  of  a  chain  is  its  weakest  link. 
Autocrats  act  more  quickly  than  ill-organized 
democracy.  And  undoubtedly  His  triumph  is  long- 
delayed  because  in  love  and  patience  He  is  deter- 
mined that  we  shall  share  it. 

Indeed,  this  does  not  fully  state  the  case.  Our 
idea  is  that  the  big  days  of  power  were  when  Jesus 
visibly  walked  in  Palestine,  working  His  miracles. 
But  His  promise  was  that  the  disciples — and  He 
sets  no  time-limit — would  do  greater  things  than 


THE  POWEH  OF  THEIR  INSPIRATION    41 

these.  So  completely  did  He  humble  Himself,  that 
He  would  speak  like  a  modest  pioneer  who  leaves 
to  others  the  fruits  of  his  discovery.  Every  or- 
ganizer knows  that  success  depends,  not  on  doing 
things  oneself,  but  on  inspiring  others  to  do  them. 
Our  Saviour  is  the  Author  of  capability.  The ' 
greater  things  that  He  desired  are  on  record.  He 
rebuked  a  fig-tree  and  it  withered.  Peter  rebuked 
Ananias  and  Sapphira  and  they  died.  Jesus 
mastered  storms  on  a  lake.  The  storms  that  He 
enabled  Paul  to  master  were  oceanic.  He  spoke 
to  the  Jews  in  one  country.  He  sent  His  disciples 
to  all  nations  in  every  land.  He  escaped  wild 
beasts  in  the  desert.  Paul  survived  an  actual 
snakebite.  The  Baptist  died  in  a  dungeon,  but  no 
dungeon  could  hold  Peter  and  Paul  when  the 
work  of  Christ  Risen  had  to  be  done.  A  woman 
touched  the  hem  of  His  garment  and  was  healed. 
But  in  the  very  shadow  of  Peter  there  was  the 
same  power,  and  Paul's  garments  were  laid  on  the 
sick,  who  were  made  whole.  If  He  cast  out  devils, 
so  did  they.  If  He  raised  the  dead,  so  again  did 
they.  If  He  preached  the  Gospel  in  one  place  at 
one  time  and  in  one  language,  they  were  scattered 
abroad,  preaching  in  many  places,  in  many  lan- 
guages, with  His  signs  following.  The  greater 
things  were,  thus,  a  fact.  Those  who  trusted  Him 
were  not  left  "  comfortless." 

But  there  were  conditions.  "  Without  Me,"  He 
had  said,  "  ye  can  do  nothing,"  and  in  the  plenitude 
of  their  authority,  the  disciples  never  forgot  this. 
Peter  and  Paul,  and  James  and  John,  and  Jude, 
wrote  epistles.  In  those  letters  you  will  find  many 
personal   reminiscences,   but   I   do   not  remember 


42  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOKGET 

one  mention  of  a  miracle  of  which  the  writers  were 
the  instruments.  So  instinctive  is  their  reticence, 
that  they  seemed  to  be  themselves  unconscious  of 
it.  And  it  is  just  here  that  the  Faith  is  at  a  dis- 
advantage, compared  with  activities  more  loudly 
advertised.  The  man  enabled  to  work  a  real  mir- 
acle is,  for  this  very  reason,  incapable  of  boasting 
about  it.  It  was  Luke,  Paul's  intimate  friend, 
who  made  it  clear,  not  that  Paul's  clothes  healed 
people,  but  that  the  Lord  wrought  special  mira- 
cles through  Paul.  The  critics,  who  tell  us  that 
miracles  are  disproved  by  silence  about  them,  fail 
to  appreciate  the  very  elements  of  the  Christian 
mystery,  which  they  think  they  have  studied.  As 
Our  Lord's  opening  of  the  blind  man's  eyes  was 
investigated  by  the  Sanhedrin,  so  was  Peter's  word 
of  help  to  the  lame  man  similarly  investigated  by 
the  same  body;  both  events  stood  the  test  of 
scrutiny.  But  neither  Our  Saviour  nor  His 
apostle  aimed  at  such  publicity.  It  came  un- 
sought. What  concerned  Master  and  servant  was 
simply  the  day's  work. 

Yet  does  any  one  imagine  that  when  these  dis- 
ciples wrote  about  weakness  made  strong,  dark- 
ness flooded  with  light,  misery  turned  into  joy,  old 
men  changed  into  new  men,  and  so  on,  they  meant 
nothing  except  a  pious  phrase?  These  words  were 
used,  not  by  raw  recruits,  but  by  veterans,  who 
had  seen  years  of  active  service.  The  wealth, 
thus  indicated,  was  not  an  estimate;  it  was  realized 
revenue.  Peter's  earliest  addresses  were  simple 
testimonies  to  Our  Lord's  life,  death,  resurrection, 
and  ascension.  They  were  clear  and  true  as  the 
first  basic  propositions  in  Euclid.     But  his  Epistles 


THE  POWER  OF  THEIR  INSPIRATION    43 

— composed  years  later — how  rich  the  glory  that 
shines  from  their  glowing  and  majestic  witness ! 

The  life  lived  by  Peter  and  Paul  led  to  a  good 
hope,  an  end  to  harassing  uncertainties,  a  ripe 
and  noble  love  for  fellow-men.  And  the  supreme 
problem  for  us  is  this :  In  w^hat,  in  Whom 
lay  their  power?  How  and  when  and  whence  re- 
ceived they  this  Spirit?  This  is  what  we  must 
investigate.  It  was  not  eloquence.  The  only 
preacher  whose  eloquence  is  particularly  men- 
tioned is  ApoUos,  and  not  one  word  of  his  remains 
on  record.  It  was  not  sensationalism.  Gamaliel, 
the  Pharisee  leader,  drew  an  instructive  distinction 
between  the  apostles  and  men  like  Theudas,  who 
boasted  himself  to  be  somebody,  and  Judas  of 
Galilee,  who  led  a  revolt.  In  addressing  the 
Salonicans,  Paul  expressly  avoided  "  flattering 
words."  And  the  Corinthians  were  warned  that 
words  of  wisdom  might  have  actually  made  the 
Cross  of  Christ  of  none  effect.  The  ''  power  "  de- 
pended on  no  such  aids.  It  was  the  privilege  of 
men  who  were  not  their  own,  but  bought  with  a 
price. 

In  a  sentence,  it  was  the  power  of  "  the  Spirit." 
Throughout  the  entire  narrative  power  and  Spirit 
are  linked  together  in  one  phase.  In  the  power  of 
the  Spirit  Jesus  began  His  public  ministry.  Asked 
by  what  power  he  healed  the  lame  man,  Peter,  in 
his  answer,  was  filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit.  Sap- 
phira  fell  dead  because  she  tempted  this  all-power- 
ful Spirit.  Stephen,  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  was 
also  endued  with  wisdom,  faith,  and  power.  Even 
Simon  Magus  knew  that  the  secret  of  the  apostle's 
power  was  this  Spirit.     Filled  with  the  Spirit,  the 


i4  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

converted  Saul  increased  in  strength.  Wherever 
these  men  of  the  Spirit  w^ent  there  v^^as  clear, 
courageous  speech,  wise  and  far-sighted  poUcy, 
righteous  and  terrible  rebuke,  patient  and  sympa- 
thetic teaching.  In  the  Spirit  they  became  states- 
men, physicians,  orators,  theologians,  organizers, 
-and  good  citizens  and  neighbours.  And  that  same 
Spirit  is  eternal,  available  for  every  age,  every 
climate,  every  circumstance. 


VI 

THE  Me!tH0D  of  THE  FIRST 
MISSIONARIES 

WARM  as  was  the  zeal  of  the  disciples,  their 
proceedings  never  lapsed  into  anarchy. 
The  Gospel  was  not  preached  at  random,  but  in 
orderly  sequence — first,  at  Jerusalem,  then  in 
Samaria,  and  so  on  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Paul 
told  the  Corinthians  that  God  is  not  the  author  of 
confusion,  but  of  peace;  and,  like  Jude,  he  rebuked 
those  who  despise  dominion  and  speak  evil  of  dig- 
nities. And  among  the  first  acts  of  the  Church 
was  the  election  of  an  apostle.  This  event  de- 
serves our  close  study,  because  it  occurred  before 
the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  for  which  the  disciples  had 
been  told  to  wait.  As  I  read  the  story,  it  is  clear 
that  Our  Saviour,  in  His  wisdom,  put  the  Spirit  be- 
fore all  questions  of  organization,  whereas  the  dis- 
ciples, though  prayerful,  patient  and  united,  were 
a  little  inclined  to  modify  this  plan.  Roman 
CathoHcs  would  say  that  the  Church,  assembled  as 
it  was  in  General  Council — small  in  numbers  but 
universal  in  its  mission,  with  Peter  standing  in  the 
midst — must  have  been  infallible,  and  that  the 
supreme  necessity  was  an  Apostolic  Succession.  I 
suggest  that  the  lesson  is  rather  that  Churches, 
unless  they  be  guided  by  the  Spirit,  are  not  thus 

<i5 


46  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

infallible,  and  that  even  Peter,  however  deep  our 
reverence  for  him,  v^as  not  so  complete,  so  w^on- 
derful  a  counsellor  as  his  Lord. 

If  this  great  leader  of  the  Church  met  the  empty 
chair  of  the  Iscariot  with  courage,  it  was  because 
he  was  prepared  for  the  situation  by  prophecies. 
These  were  to  him  no  legerdemain  of — what  shall 
I  say? — telepathy  or  superstition,  but  a  Divine 
safeguard  against  surprises  which  might  have 
wounded  the  souls  of  men.  The  treachery  of 
Judas,  so  strange  and  startling,  had  been  foreseen. 
Centuries  ago,  David  had  realized  that,  in  summing 
up  all  wickedness,  redemption  would  not  omit 
human  perfidy.  The  Psalmist  knew  that  if  a  man 
be  faithless  to  his  bishopric,  i.  c,  his  work  in  the 
world,  whatever  it  be,  another  must  undertake  it. 
So,  basing  himself  on  Scripture,  Peter  led  the 
way,  with  firm  footstep ;  and  he  teaches  us  also 
that  supreme  moral  calamities,  like  w^ar  and  desola- 
tion, were  not  unforeseen  by  our  Redeemer.  They 
do  not  mean  that  He  has  failed — He  reckoned  in 
advance  with  all  such  distresses. 

Moreover,  it  was  true,  as  Peter  said,  that  Our 
Lord  chose  precisely  twelve  apostles,  one  for  each 
tribe  of  Israel.  Reuben,  unstable  as  water — the 
man  who  does  not  excel — must  have  an  apostle. 
So  must  Simeon  and  Levi,  the  hard  men,  in  whose 
homes  are  instruments  of  cruelty.  An  apostle 
must  help  Judah,  who  bears  the  sceptre,  and  is 
born  to  command.  Zebulun  the  sailor,  and  Gad 
the  soldier,  must  each  have  a  missioner.  Issachar, 
the  strong  ass  bowed  down,  the  unskilled  labourer, 
the  navvy,  deserves  a  message.  Dan,  the  clever 
and   treacherous   judge,   requires   conversion,   like 


METHOD  OF  THE  FIKST  MISSIONARIES    47 

the  rest  of  us.  Asher,  the  courtier,  fed  with  royal 
dainties,  needs  glad  tidings,  as  does  Naphtali,  the 
hind  let  loose,  the  literary  man,  who  giveth  goodly 
words.  Benjamin,  the  wolf  who  hunts,  the 
pioneer,  gold-digger,  colonist — he  must  not  be  for- 
gotten; and  finally  Joseph,  the  home-lover  and 
father  of  children,  must  be  drawn  to  the  Redeemer. 
For  every  type  in  the  community  there  is  a  gate 
into  the  City  of  God,  and  every  gate  is  founded  on 
an  apostle.  For  every  tribe  there  is  a  throne  of 
authority,  and  on  the  throne  is  seated  an  apostle. 
We  may  not  know  which  apostle  will  reach  which 
tribe — the  tribes  are  four  times  three  and  the 
apostles  are  three  times  four — but  if  one  apostle 
turns  traitor  be  very  sure  that  a  gate  is  closed,  a 
throne  is  empty,  and  a  tribe  is  forlorn.  Up  to  this 
point,  at  any  rate,  Peter  gripped  the  situation. 

But  one  detects,  just  here,  a  note  of  uncertainty. 
Our  trouble  is  a  scarcity  of  clergy  or  witnesses — 
theirs  was  superabundance.  Joseph  was  suitable 
and  so  was  Matthias,  but  there  was  no  obvious 
way  of  selecting  between  them.  The  predicament 
was  one  that  has  split  many  a  church,  but,  in  this 
case,  there  is  no  suggestion  of  party  nor  of  can- 
vassing for  votes.  They  did  not  even  ask  which 
candidate  had  a  majority,  but  only  desired  that 
God's  choice  should  be  made  effective.  Before 
selecting  His  Twelve,  Our  Lord  spent  a  whole 
night  in  prayer.  And,  at  Antioch,  Barnabas  and 
Saul  were  not  set  apart  for  missionary  work  until 
the  Spirit  had  expressly  spoken.  But,  in  the  upper 
room,  acting  before  the  Spirit  came,  the  disciples 
resorted  to  lots.  If  there  be  no  direct  guidance,  it 
was  the  best  thing  to  be  done,  for,  "  of  a  lot,"  it  is 


48  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

said  that  "  the  whole  disposing  is  of  the  Lord."  A 
lot  had  detected  the  sin  of  Achan  and  the  offense 
of  Jonathan.  A  lot  apportioned  land  to  the  Israel- 
ites and  duties  to  the  priests.  But  it  was  also  a 
lot  that  distributed  Our  Saviour's  raiment,  and 
when  the  Spirit  came,  this  use  of  what  men  called 
*'  chance  "  was  superseded.  It  was  explicit  reve- 
lation that  condemned  Ananias  and  Sapphira  and 
ordained  Paul,  nor  is  any  system  of  preferment 
that  depends  on  political  or  social  intrigues,  a 
statesman's  hurried  whim,  or  a  landowner's  claims 
of  blood,  really  adequate  to  the  Saviour's  full  pur- 
pose. 

When  Our  Lord  bade  farewell  to  His  disciples, 
He  knew  that  Judas  was  dead,  and  He  could  have 
nominated  a  successor.  Instead  of  doing  this,  or 
of  giving  to  His  disciples  what  in  England  we  call 
a  conge  d'elire,  He  told  them,  simply,  to  wait  for  the 
Spirit.  This  was  His  decision  as  to  *'  times  and 
seasons  " — not  organization,  the  visible  kingdom 
first,  but  power — in  a  word,  God.  On  many  oc- 
casions, and  it  may  be  on  this,  the  impetuous  Peter 
was  almost  right.  As  he  had  contended  in  past 
years,  there  was  much  to  be  said  against  Our  Lord 
risking  His  life  at  Jerusalem ;  much  to  be  said  for 
tabernacles  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration; 
much  to  be  said  for  the  immediate  election  there 
and  then  of  an  apostle.  But  for  us  who  know  the 
sequel,  there  remains  the  question,  very  fruitful  of 
modern  application,  whether  God*s  plans  did  not 
even  then  transcend  the  utmost  imagining  of  the 
Church. 

Joseph  and  Matthias  were  picked  out  because 
from    the    beginning    they    had    companied    with 


METHOD  OF  THE  FIRST  MISSIONARIES    49 

Jesus,  seeing  how  He  "went  in  and  out  "—His 
private  conduct  and  His  public  career.     It  was  the 
note    of    antiquity    dominating    the    Church,    and 
clearly  we  need  this  witness   to  the  historic  Re- 
deemer.    We  cannot  base  our  faith   on  a  myth. 
But  was  this  to  be  the  only  witness?     Was  there  to 
be  no  place  for  a  man  unless  he  be  trained,  as  it 
were,  in  a  theological  college?     Christ  in  the  flesh 
was  truly  Divine;  but  is  not  Christ  risen,  ascended, 
glorified,  and  present  among  us — is  not  He  to  re- 
ceive the  larger  witness,  as  Stephen  saw  Him,  and 
Paul?     If  apostleship  had  ended  with  His  earthly 
contemporaries,   what   a   blow   would   have    been 
struck  at  the  Christian  movement  down  the  ages! 
Again,  while  the  number,  twelve,  appHed  to  the 
tribes  of  Israel,  was  there  to  be  a  kind  of  College 
of  Cardinals  thus  Hmited  strictly  in  numbers  for 
all  time,  whatever  new  worlds   there  be   to   con- 
quer?    Our  Saviour,  in  the  flesh,  preached  to  the 
Jews,  but  He  sent  His  disciples  into  all  the  world; 
and  here  at  Jerusalem  were  other  tribes  already 
gathering     for     Pentecost— Elamites,     Parthians, 
dwellers  in  Mesopotamia.     Were  they  to  have  no 
apostles?     Was    there   to   be   no   Livingstone   for 
Africa,  no  Chalmers  for  New  Guinea,  no  Grenfell 
for  Labrador?     Already,  at  Alexandria,  a  young 
student  called  Apollos  was   learning  the   oratory 
which  was  to  thunder  forth  the  Baptist's  message 
throughout  Achaia.     A  laird  or  squire  from   Cy- 
prus, called  Barnabas,  was  voyaging  to  Jerusalem, 
there  to  dispose  of  family  estates  and  lay  the  price 
at  the  apostles*  feet.     A  mother  in  Lystra,  called 
Eunice,    was    teaching    to    Timothy    his    Hebrew 
alphabet.     At  Antioch,  one  Silas  was  to  become  a 


50  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

chief  man  among  the  brethren.  And  a  lad  called 
Saul,  a  Pharisee,  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  which 
was  Saul's  tribe,  sat,  hard  by,  at  the  feet  of  Gama- 
liel. When  the  Spirit  came,  they  remembered  that 
their  sons  and  their  daughters  were  to  prophesy, 
their  young  men  were  to  see  visions,  their  old  men 
were  to  dream  dreams.  Before  their  eyes,  there 
lay  outspread  an  ampler  landscape,  bounded  only 
by  an  eternal  horizon. 

Matthias  was  elected — I  am  sure  that  he  ful- 
filled his  apostleship — but  it  is  a  fact  that  he  is  not 
again  mentioned.  When  Peter  faced  the  multi- 
tude, a  day  or  two  later,  it  is  curious  that  he  is 
described  as  one  of  the  eleven,  as  if  the  vacancy 
were  still  unfilled !  But  there  is  a  delicate  humility 
in  the  subsequent  behaviour  of  the  excluded 
Joseph,  surnamed  Barsabas.  He  made  no  trouble, 
and  he  had  his  reward.  For  he  appears  to  be 
again  referred  to,  a  few  years  later,  as  an  honoured 
leader  of  the  Syrian  Church,  ranking  with  Paul  and 
Barnabas  and  Silas.  It  is  the  classical  case  of  a 
man  with  a  call  not  suflrering  discouragement  be- 
cause, for  the  moment,  opportunities  are  denied 
him. 

Some  think  that  the  man  who  ultimately  filled 
that  vacant  chair,  who  supplied  what  the  Iscariot 
was  chosen  to  supply — namely,  the  statesmanship 
of  the  Church — was  Paul,  appointed  "  not  of  men, 
neither  by  man,"  as  he  told  the  Galatians,  "  but  by 
Jesus  Christ  and  God  the  Father.''  Not  in  Jeru- 
salem, among  the  Twelve,  but  in  Arabia,  did  Paul 
receive  consecration,  nor  did  he  "  confer  with  flesh 
and  blood."  When  he  visited  Jerusalem,  he  did 
not    see    James,    who    presided    over    the    parent 


METHOD  OF  THE  FIRST  MISSIONARIES    51 

Church ;  and,  in  staying  for  a  fortnight  with  Peter, 
it  was  as  a  guest  and  an  equal.  What  Paul  here 
argued  was  that  a  man  speaks  only  with  authority 
on  the  things  which  he  has  received  personally  from 
the  one  Lord  to  Whom  each  of  us  is  directly  respon- 
sible. For  him,  hearsay  was  not  enough;  he  did 
not  listen  merely  to  the  Gospel,  he  discovered  it,  he 
searched  for  it  and  found  it.  He  was  not  easily 
convinced,  and  conviction  only  came  to  him  when 
Christ  spoke.  At  the  first  link,  therefore,  the 
Apostolic  Succession  was — I  will  not  say  broken — 
but  made  to  depend,  year  by  year,  on  present  con- 
tact with  Christ.  They  are  the  children  of  Abra- 
ham who  do  the  works  of  Abraham  and  they  are 
the  sons  of  Paul  in  the  faith  who  follow  Paul,  as 
Timothy  did,  into  those  solitudes  where  the  lightest 
whisper  of  the  one  voice  can  be  heard  and  obeyed. 


VII 

AN  ERA  OF  REVIVALS 

LET  us  suppose  that  on  the  Fourth  of  July  or 
other  hoUday,  there  were  to  break  out  in  this 
country  a  Revival,  originating  on  the  steps  of  the 
Capitol  at  Washington,  but  opposed  by  the 
Churches,  v^hich,  awakening  them  none  the  less, 
transformed  the  religions  of  the  American  Re- 
public !  Historians  would  look  very  closely  into 
the  circumstances  of  so  remarkable  an  event.  The 
Jewish  iiame  for  what  we  call  Whitsuntide  is 
Pentecost;  and  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg  itself  is 
not  an  event  more  definite  than  the  gift  of  the 
Spirit  which  is  recorded  for  that  date  in  the 
calendar. 

The  feasts  at  Jerusalem  were  considered  to  be 
so  significant  that  Our  Lord  Himself  used  to  attend 
them.  Paul  travelled  in  haste  hundreds  of  miles 
over  sea  and  land  in  order  to  observe  a  certain  later 
Pentecost  at  Jerusalem.  Nor  was  it  mere  pedan- 
try. These  seasons  recalled  the  old  annals  of  the 
race.  And  these  annals  illustrated  the  eternal 
struggles  of  the  soul.  It  was  not  as  mere  history 
that  Peter  and  Stephen  and  Paul  discussed  the 
Exodus  from  Egypt,  but  as  symbol,  as  the  language 
of  personal  experience;  and  if  that  language  lives 
on  to-day,  easily  decipherable,  it  is  because  litera- 

52 


AN  ERA  OF  REVIVALS  53 

ture  has  not  furnished,  after  centuries  of  genius, 
a  deeper,  truer  picture  of  man's  escape  from  death 
unto  Hfe.  This  was  what  the  disciples  were  think- 
ing about,  assembled  in  their  upper  room,  when 
the  Spirit  came  upon  them.  Their  minds  were  as 
full  of  Pentecostal  traditions  as  are  our  minds  full 
of  Yuletide  traditions  on  Christmas  Day. 

That  Pentecost  lay  seven  weeks,  precisely,  from 
the  Passover  on  which  Our  Saviour  died  as  the 
Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world. 
So  vivid  was  this  parallel  to  Paul  that  he  would 
speak  of  Jesus  as  actually  dying  in  Egypt;  while 
his  references  to  the  manna,  the  rock,  and  the 
pillar  of  cloud  and  fire,  were  numerous  and  pre- 
cisely symbolic.  Passover,  with  its  atonement, 
represented  an  escape  of  men  and  women  from  a 
degrading  tyranny  and  bondage.  The  interval  of 
seven  weeks  reminded  the  Jews  of  the  wilderness, 
which  might  have  been  crossed  so  quickly,  had 
there  not  been  serious  acts  of  disobedience.  Seven 
weeks  suggested  a  Sabbath  of  Sabbaths — a  com- 
plete rest  or  convalescence  from  evil — in  the  case 
of  the  disciples,  a  recovery  from  the  shame  of  hav- 
ing forsaken  the  Master  and  fled.  They  had  great 
work  to  do,  but  they  did  not  rush  at  it.  Many 
hours  were  devoted  to  prayer  and  accurate  recol- 
lection of  all  that  Jesus  had  been  to  them.  He  had 
promised  them  special  gifts  of  memory,  and  I 
cannot  doubt  that  the  exquisite  fullness  and  perfec- 
tion of  the  Gospels,  which  were  written  later,  are 
attributable  to  the  tender  discussions,  behind  closed 
doors,  of  which,  at  the  time,  the  world  heard  noth- 
ing. 

During  this  pause,  crowds  of  people  were  gather- 


54  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

ing  in  Jerusalem,  yet  no  word  was  uttered  publicly 
by  Christ's  intimate  followers.  It  looked  as  if  a 
supreme  opportunity  would  pass  by.  But  these 
men  held  that  no  preaching  at  all  was  better  than 
unspiritual  preaching;  and  while  their  eloquence, 
when  it  was  let  loose,  fitted  the  occasion,  it  was 
not  provoked  thereby.  For,  obviously,  Galileans 
were  ill-suited  to  audiences  so  cosmopolitan.  They 
were  not  linguists.  Their  lives  had  been  spent 
in  narrow  spheres.  Yet  there  came  upon  them 
such  tact,  such  winning  versatility,  such  gifts  of 
tongue,  that,  instantly,  they  got  into  touch  with 
men  and  women  of  every  nation.  People  heard  in 
the  language  to  which  they  were  born.  Common 
phrases  glowed  Divine.  The  curse  of  Babel 
was  cancelled,  and  racial  animosities  were 
hushed.  In  Paul's  words,  Christians,  in  preaching 
Christ,  became  ''  all  things  to  all  men." 

Yet  it  was  not  an  age  of  faith.  The  current 
theory  was  that  Jesus  had  been  stolen  away  by 
His  disciples.  Those  who  had  been  helped  by 
Him  were  scattered,  discouraged,  and  silent.  His 
mother  and  relatives  lived  in  Jerusalem,  unnoticed. 
So  far  from  believing  in  His  Atonement,  the  priests 
went  on  with  their  sacrifices,  as  if  nothing  of  re- 
demption had  been  finished  at  Calvary;  and  years 
afterwards,  a  letter 'had  to  be  written  to  the  He- 
brews who  believed,  explaining  how  types  and 
shadows  had  been  fulfilled.  Instead  of  His  first 
day,  which  opens  up  a  future  week  of  hope  and 
service,  there  was  still  observed  a  Seventh  Day, 
which  ends  a  week  that  is  gone,  and  points  to  the 
chequered  past.  His  Cross,  now  a  sacred  emblem, 
was  still  shameful  as  the  gallows,  and  other  cruci- 


AN  ERA  OF  REVIVALS  65 

fixions  were  of  frequent  occurrence.  His  tomb 
was  neglected;  and  Peter,  when  he  spoke,  dis- 
played no  fragment  of  the  wood,  no  shred  of  the 
garments,  no  nail  that  pierced  Him,  no  visible  drop 
of  His  blood,  whether  as  material  relic  or  as  evi- 
dence. Whatever  view  we  take  of  the  revival,  it 
was  not  a  mere  spasm  of  superstition.  It  was  not 
a  case  of  clever  men  deceiving  the  ignorant.  On 
the  contrary,  ignorant  and  unlearned  men  con- 
founded the  wise. 

For  Our  Lord's  way  of  launching  His  Church 
was  not  what  we  would  have  expected.  After 
rising  from  the  dead,  He  showed  Himself,  as  He 
does  to-day,  to  the  few  only;  and  all  His  followers, 
when  gathered  to  see  Him,  only  numbered  about 
five  hundred,  and  this,  on  a  single  occasion.  He 
did  not  desire  a  vague,  casual,  and  shallow  testi- 
mony to  His  miracles.  "  Be  ye  witnesses  of  Me  " 
were  His  last  words — of  My  Person,  as  greater 
than  My  works;  and  such  witnesses  were  selected 
with  infinite  care  from  those  who  really  knew  Him. 
With  supreme  wisdom,  He  was  ready  that  the 
world  should  see  no  beauty  in  Him,  provided  that, 
for  the  moment,  these  few  should  see  Him  clearly 
as  the  King  in  His  Beauty.  This  was  His  method, 
and  we  do  well  to  note  it. 

Our  harvest  thanksgivings  are  celebrated 
when  the  last  sheaf  is  gathered  in — we  walk  by 
sight,  not  by  faith — leaving  little  to  what  men  call 
"  chance."  Pentecost  was  observed  when  the 
earliest  little  shoots — "  the  first-fruits "  of  the 
Father's  goodness — rose  above  the  ground  sky- 
wards. It  was  the  beginning  only  of  that  growth 
to  harvest  of  which  the  final  gathering  would  be 


56  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

when  Our  Lord,  coming  in  the  clouds,  thrusts  in 
His  sickle,  for  reaping  and  judgment.  In  the  early 
Church,  the  coming  of  the  Spirit  was  not  final  and 
"  once  for  all,"  but  continuous.  As  converts  at 
Jerusalem  and  again  at  Csesarea  were  multiplied, 
so  in  more  generous  measure  was  the  Spirit  poured 
out  on  them.  Women  and  men  equally  claimed 
the  Gift.  And  a  Church  without  the  Spirit  was 
considered  to  be  abnormal — a  kind  of  cripple — that 
needed  healing.  At  Ephesus,  for  instance,  there 
were  twelve  men  who  only  knew  the  baptism  of 
John — the  discipline  of  duty  and  repentance.  Paul 
did  not  rest  until  they  had  asked  for  and  received 
the  Spirit.  The  drama  of  the  Gospel  did  not  end 
with  Calvary.  In  his  Gospel,  Luke  tells  us  that  he 
only  narrates  what  Jesus  began  both  to  do  and  to 
teach.  The  Book,  which  is  entitled,  "  The  Acts  of 
the  Apostles,"  leaves  Paul  still  chained  in  his  hired 
house  at  Rome,  and  the  volume  remains  unfinished. 
You  would  have  said — and  rightly — that  the 
ritual  of  Jerusalem  had  lost  much  of  its  ancient 
force;  that  the  future  would  lie  with  the  modern- 
ists of  Alexandria  and  Athens  rather  than  with 
the  pietists  of  Galilee.  But  it  is  in  the  humble  and 
contrite  heart  that  God  dwells;  and  to  be  reverent 
towards  Him,  even  in  a  decaying  congregation,  is 
better  than  to  forget  Him  outside.  It  was  not  in 
an  Ethical  Society  on  Mars  Hill,  or  in  a  Trades* 
Union  that  the  flame  was  first  kindled,  but  in  the 
orthodox  temple  and  synagogue.  Cornelius,  the 
early  Gentile  convert,  was  a  devout  man.  So  was 
the  soldier  who  waited  on  him.  So  also  was  the 
Ethiopian  in  the  desert.  Such  were  Lois  and 
Eunice  in  Timothy's  home,  and  the  mourners  who 


AN  ERA  OF  REVIVALS  67 

carried  Stephen  to  his  tomb.  The  honour  was 
paid  not  to  irreHgion,  but  to  rehgion — yet  it  had  to 
be  Christ's  idea  of  rehgion.  Dogma,  without  con- 
trition, made  Paul  a  persecutor  and  drove  the 
honourable  women  of  Iconium  to  stir  up  riot 
against  Our  Lord's  missionaries. 

In  his  life  of  Danton,  Mr.  Belloc  tells  us  that  the 
French  Revolution,  with  its  apparent  violence  and 
lawlessness,  was  really  a  return  to  the  normal. 
Oppression,  squalor,  injustice,  had  to  be  swept 
away  because  they  are  not  what  men  and  women 
are  made  for.  Similarly,  a  hurricane  is  a  strictly 
scientific  movement  of  air  to  a  vacuum  where 
creatures  need  air  to  breathe.  In  that  upper  room 
sat  men  and  women  in  whose  beings  there  was  a 
great  capacity  for  God.  Like  the  hart  at  the 
water-brooks,  they  "  panted "  for  Him,  and  the 
Spirit,  blowing  where  He  listeth,  filled,  as  it  were, 
the  lungs  of  their  souls.  Given  the  conditions,  this 
amazing  thing  had  to  be.  But  the  conditions,  as 
we  have  seen,  were  perfected  by  humble  prepara- 
tion. In  visiting  them,  the  Spirit  was  not  counte- 
nancing malice  or  cruelty  or  persecuting  jealousy. 

There  remained  nothing  in  them  of  the  passion 
which  might  transform  their  own  blessing  into 
somebody  else's  curse — their  own  good  into  some- 
body else's  evil.  The  gift  which  they  received  was 
formidable,  momentous,  even  menacing.  But  they 
could  be  trusted — they  had  become  trustworthy. 

And  I  note  this.  The  place  where  they  met  was 
shaken.  When  God  thus  enters  the  lives  of  men, 
circumstances  do  tremble.  As  in  the  world  to-day, 
a  mighty  rushing  wind  sweeps  away  the  land- 
marks.    Onlv   the   flame   itself   stays    steady — un- 


68  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

flickering  amid  the  tumult,  a  fiery  pillar  amid  the 
hurricanes  of  the  wilderness.  It  is  a  flame,  kin- 
dling no  longer  on  nations  as  nations,  nor  on  priests 
as  priests,  nor  on  kings  as  kings.  It  illuminates 
the  faces  of  your  own  sons  and  your  daughters, 
your  old  men  and  your  young  men,  and  your  very 
selves.  It  is  not  mere  fancy  nor  emotion;  this 
flame  inspires  the  heart,  through  the  head;  there 
is  no  intellect,  too  educated,  no  imagination,  too 
brilliant,  for  this  divine  and  intimate  enlighten- 
ment. In  very  truth,  this  Holy  Spirit  is,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  the  one  all  inclusive  miracle  or  living 
Wonder  that  we  lack.  To  want  Him  sincerely,  to 
await  Him  with  patience,  to  receive  Him  in  grate- 
ful submission  is  the  whole  secret  of  the  Life  worth 
living. 


VIII 
THE  GIFT  OF  ONE  LANGUAGE 

FROM  one  generation  to  another,  man  has  shed 
man's  blood,  without  fully  knowing  the  rea- 
sons why.  At  a  historic  meeting  in  New  York, 
the  President  of  the  United  States  said — and  I 
heard  the  words — that  a  world  war  must  continue 
because  a  certain  nation  did  not  speak  the  same 
language  as  democracy,  and  this  explanation  brings 
us  at  once  to  the  scenes  at  Pentecost  where  lan- 
guage was  the  problem  solved.  In  many  coun- 
tries,— South  Africa  for  instance  or  Quebec — a 
question  of  language  dominates  politics.  It  is  of 
such  vital  importance  to  peace  and  happiness  that 
people  of  diverse  race  and  religion  should  under- 
stand one  another.  The  first  achievement  of  the 
early  Christians  was  thus  to  bring  men  and  women 
of  all  national  origins  into  one  family.  And  in  a 
few  brief  centuries,  it  was  their  religion  which 
preserved  the  unity  of  Roman  civilization,  when 
mere  Empire  had  fallen  into  fragments. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  the  curse  of  Babel 
with  the  blessing  of  Pentecost.  At  Babel,  you  had 
one  original  mother  tongue,  one  grammar,  as  it 
were,  and  one  dictionary,  but  people  behaved  as 
rivals  rather  than  comrades — they  did  not  love 
one  another — they  did  not  acknowledge  any  one 
Teacher — their  hearts  drifted  apart  and  their  dia- 

59 


60  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

lects  became  diverse  as  their  affections.  It  is  love 
i  and  faith  and  hope,  not  syntax,  that  are  the  founda- 
\  tions  of  a  better  understanding  among  peoples,  and 
i  sometimes  America  has  been  closer  to  France 
through  an  interpreter  than  to  England  by  direct 
speech.  When  the  disciples  emerged  from  their 
upper  room,  overflowing  with  the  abundant  Spirit 
of  God,  Who  is  love  to  man,  every  one  they  met 
knew  at  once  what  was  meant  by  peasants  who  had 
never  spoken  before,  save  in  the  patois  of  Galilee. 
When  we  were  children,  we  read  about  this  gift 
of  tongues  as  a  strange  tale,  which  might  be  his- 
tory or  legend,  but  in  either  case  hardly  affected 
our  own  lives.  A  miracle,  which  left  our  lessons  in 
French  and  Latin  no  easier  than  before,  seemed 
remote  from  the  routine  of  the  classroom.  Some 
people  of  a  serious  tone  attended  conferences  on 
"  holiness,"  which  unfamiliar  term  we  could  not 
define,  or  joined  societies  like  the  Pentecostal 
League,  the  solemnity  of  which  alarmed  us.  No- 
body explained  to  us  that  at  Pentecost,  what  hap- 
jpened  was  an  outburst  of  coinmon-sensQ — of  good 
[fellowship — what  the  French  call  esprit  de  corps.  It 
was  before  the  Spirit  came  that  the  disciples  spent 
their  time  looking  upward  into  heaven  or  in  the  se- 
clusion long  continued  of  a  prayer  meeting  held 
behind  closed  doors.  The  Spirit  drove  these  peo- 
ple into  the  market-place — forced  them  to  become 
good  *'  mixers  " — made  them  men  of  the  world — 
with  the  international  mind.  Wherever  they 
travelled,  they  were  admirable  company.  They 
aroused  interest.  They  had  an  aim  in  life.  You 
might  agree  with  them  or  disagree  but  you  could 
not  find  them  dull. 


THE  GIFT  OF  ONE  LANGUAGE  61 

About  this  astonishing  event,  there  was  no 
mystery  or  concealment.  It  happened  in  broad 
dayUght,  about  our  breakfast  time.  The  disciples 
were  not  pioneers  in  psychical  research  or  theos- 
ophists  or  students  of  telepathy  and  mesmerism, 
whose  science  depends  on  a  seance  in  a  dim  heretical 
light.  Somehow,  it  seems  as  if  spiritualism  only 
finds  us  fascinating  when  we  are  dead,  but  the 
disciplesf  were  concerned  with  people  who  still 
shared  with  them  this  present  life,  with  all  its  pains 
and  limitations.  They  had  small  patience  with  the 
occult.  At  Ephesus,  they  burnt  the  books  which 
dealt  with  curious  arts  and  they  liked  to  tell  how 
one  poor  fellow,  with  an  evil  spirit,  proved  quite 
too  much  for  the  seven  sons  of  Scseva  who  had  a 
great  reputation  as  exorcists.  Simon,  the  magician 
of  Samaria,  was  denounced  by  Simon,  the  fisher- 
man of  Galilee,  and  Elymas,  the  fortune-teller  of 
Cyprus,  was  blinded  by  the  word  of  Paul,  from 
whose  eyes  had  fallen  the  scales.  Terrible  was 
the  censure  of  the  Christian  apostle  on  those  who 
profited  by  the  Philippian  girl  with  a  spirit  of 
divination.  These  perils  of  the  unseen  world — 
these  miasmas  of  the  twilight  of  faith — were  never 
treated  lightly  by  the  disciples.  They  were 
conscious  of  spirits,  good  and  evil.  They  chose 
the  Spirit  of  God.  They  believed  that  if  God's 
Spirit  were  refused,  mankind  would  not  be  left  in  a 
vacuum ;  to  the  Good,  there  would  be  always 
alternatives — perilous  and  actual. 

None  was  more  amazed  by  what  occurred  at 
Jerusalem  than  the  devout  or  religious  people. 
They  thought  that  if  you  wanted  to  find  a  living 
faith  in  God,  you  should  go   to   some   temple  or 


62  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

synagogue,  but  here  was  the  Spirit,  plainly  assist- 
ing men's  talk  in  the  street — or,  as  we  should  say, 
in  the  tube  or  subway  or  restaurant.  Neighbours 
became  so  companionable  that  a  curious  explana- 
tion was  suggested.  They  said  that  the  disciples 
must  be  filkd  with  "  new  wine."  It  was  almost 
boisterous,  this  happiness, — the  kind  of  joyful- 
heartedness  which  friends  try  to  achieve  by  '*  treat- 
ing "  one  another  in  saloon  or  public  house.  Peter 
had  to  tell  the  onlookers  that  this  was  no  mere 
fanaticism  or  religious  excitement.  It  was  an  up- 
heaval, thought  out  long  ago,  by  as  cool-headed  a 
prophet  as  ever  foresaw  revolution, — ^Joel,  who 
found  poetry  and  justice  in  caterpillars  and  locusts. 
This  was  no  end  of  a  drinking  bout.  It  was  still 
the  third  hour.  The  faith  of  these  disciples  rose 
like  an  aeroplane  by  accurately  adjusted  contact 
with  the  breezes.  They  began  the  day  in  the  very 
presence  of  God,  facing  the  day's  difficulties  with 
the  dawn.  Therefore,  it  was  true  in  a  sense  that 
the  disciples  went  forth,  filled  with  new  wine.  It 
was  the  new  wine  of  the  kingdom,  pulsating 
through  their  veins.  In  Our  Lord's  own  words, 
they  drank  it  new,  with  Him. 

Miracles  are  difficult  to  many  people,  but,  for 
myself,  I  accept  them  as  symbols  of  things  to  come. 
Because  Christ  healed  the  sick  and  restored  the 
wounded  ear,  therefore,  we  build  hospitals  and  sub- 
scribe to  the  Red  Cross.  Because  He  fed  the  multi- 
tude, therefore  do  we  organize  the  supply  of  food 
and,  in  time  of  special  need,  submit  cheerfully  to 
rations.  The  miracle  of  tongues  gives  us  the  clue 
to  that  wonderful  development  of  telegraph  and 
mails  and  printing  which  draws  together  the  whole 


THE  GIFT  OF  ONE  LANGUAGE  63 

human  race.  To-day,  there  is  hardly  a  language 
known  to  man  which  is  not  the  vehicle  for  a  written 
Bible  and  a  proclaimed  gospel.  Statesmen  will 
realize  some  day  how  much  of  peace  and  coopera- 
tion they  owe  even  in  secular  matters  to  the  inter- 
national tie  of  a  common  reverence  for  the  noblest 
things  in  literature.  Knowledge  of  the  Bible  is  a 
talisman  which  wins  for  a  man  wherever  he  travels 
the  best  of  available  friends,  with  the  best  of  avail- 
able thoughts. 

Joel  was  a  man  who  brought  home  to  us  these 
religious  ideas.  By  the  genius  of  his  pen,  he  made 
them  a  part  of  our  family  life  and  conversation. 
To  him,  a  prophet  was  not  a  dim  and  distant  figure 
in  history.  Your  sons,  he  said,  and  your  daughters 
are  the  real  prophets;  your  young  men  are  the 
people  who  will  see  visions  and  your  old  men  will 
be  the  ones  to  dream  dreams.  Ask  the  boys 
from  the  trenches  what  they  thought  of  God  and 
destiny.  Go  into  the  mine  and  factory  and  listen 
to  what  the  workers  say.  Everywhere  it  is  the 
ordinary  folk  who  are  conscious  of  the  great  mo- 
ment. The  old  with  their  memories  perceive  it 
because  memory  is  a  backward  glance  at  the 
eternal.  The  young  with  their  hopes  perceive  it 
because  hopes  also  are  glimpses  forward  to  the 
eternal.  It  is  the  middle-aged,  engrossed  in  the 
material,  who  are  apt  to  be  terrified  and  to  cry  out 
in  this  day  of  the  Lord, — to  protest  that  society  is 
being  broken  up,  that  the  sun  is  darkened  and  the 
moon  is  turning  to  blood — that  property  will  be 
consumed  as  fire  and  vapour  of  smoke.  In  a  meas- 
ure, it  is  true,  but  it  is  not  the  whole  truth.  For 
amid  the  chaos  there  walks  among  men,  Jesus  of 


64  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOUGET 

Nazareth, — how  intimate  that  title! — ^Jesus  our 
townsman  and  friend — in  calling  upon  Whos'e  name 
we  are  safe. 

How  does  Christ  save  a  trembling  civilization? 
What  is  it  that  makes  civilization  tremble?  An 
insecure — a  narrow  foundation.  The  basis  of  so- 
ciety is  public  opinion  and  public  opinion  is  pre- 
cisely as  broad  and  as  narrow  as  the  minds  of  men. 
In  the  case  of  Peter  himself,  we  see  how  the  Spirit 
gradually  overcame  deep  prejudice  and  defective 
education.  The  apostle  started  his  public  career 
equipped  only  with  the  local  dialect  of  Galilee.  He 
could  not  throw  oi^  that  accent — in  the  high  priest's 
palace  it  nearly  cost  him  his  life.  Under  some  in- 
fluence, which  history  declares  to  be  spiritual,  Peter 
became  as  world-conscious  as  the  farmer  from 
Texas  or  the  labourer  from  Shropshire  who  left  the 
plough  to  fight  for  France  and  Armenia.  He  had 
loved  his  brother.  He  had  loved  his  wife — I  often 
wonder  whether  his  was  the  marriage  at  Cana — 
and,  as  Paul  reminds  us,  Peter  liked  to  have  his 
wife  near  him  on  his  travels.  When  his  mother- 
in-law  was  taken  ill,  he  sent  at  once  for  Jesus.  But, 
as  time  passed,  he  began  to  lavish  thought  and 
care  on  people  outside  his  immediate  circle, — on 
Arabians  and  Africans  and  Mesopotamians.  Yet 
he  did  it  reluctantly  and  with  lapses  into  former 
narrowness.  For  years,  the  Gentiles  were  com- 
mon or  unclean  in  his  eyes  and,  at  Antioch,  he  did 
not  like  to  eat  with  them.  As  his  life  drew  to  a 
close,  however,  he  wrote  letters  which  are  good 
for  all  mankind.  His  first  epistle  is  addressed  to 
the  very  saints  scattered  abroad  in  Pontus,  Galatia, 
Cappadocia,  Asia  and  Bithynia,  many  of  whom  had 


THE  GIFT  OF  ONE  LANGUAGE  65 

assembled   in  Jerusalem   at   Pentecost,   while  his 
second  epistle  is  universal. 

The  disciples  themselves  had  noticed  with  what 
unerring  insight  Our  Lord  knew  the  thoughts  of 
the  people  whom  He  met.  At  Pentecost,  there  was 
the  same  diagnosis  of  character.  What  aroused 
attention  was  not  fine  preaching  to  great  crowds 
but  casual  conversation  among  individuals.  Peter's 
sermon  which  followed  was  only  an  explanation  of 
the  phenomenon.  These  foreigners  had  found  in 
Jerusalem  what  they  least  expected  and  that  was  a 
friend  in  need.  The  Friend  did  not  speak  Hebrew 
to  Persians  or  Greek  to  mixers;  nor  did  he  intone 
or  use  special  phrases.  The  disciples  conversed  in 
natural  terms, — the  words  that  a  mother  uses  when 
she  handles  her  new-born  child.  The  idioms  of^ 
Pentecost  were  the  idioms  of  the  day.  It  was  \ 
Christian  talk,  in  terms  of  club  and  dinner  table, — 
a  pulpit  theme,  with  the  diction  of  the  press  and 
platform. 

Wordsworth  tells  us  that  our  birth  is  but  a  sleep 
and  a  forgetting.  The  new  birth  is  an  awakening 
and  a  remembering.  At  Pentecost,  the  converts 
rubbed  their  eyes  and  said  to  each  other,  "  Here  we 
are  after  the  nightmare,  back  in  our  Father's  home, 
where  we  have  all  things  common."  It  is  signifi- 
cant that  they  began  at  once  to  drop  their  labels. 
They  came  to  Jerusalem,  as  foreigners  come  to 
America,  filled  with  local  patriotism,  but  in  Christ 
they  were  no  longer  Parthians  and  Medes  and 
Jews  and  proselytes.  It  is  only  a  side  reference 
that  tells  us  that  Paul  belonged  to  the  tribe  of 
Benjamin  and  who  knows  whether  Luke  was  a 
Gentile?     He  was  a  beloved  physician,  with  one 


m  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

hundred  per  cent,  loyalty  to  Paul,  the  prisoner,  and 
Paul's  master.  Whatever  he  had  been  by  national- 
ity, he  was  now  a  true  man  among  men. 

Becoming  all  things  to  all  men  is  not  easy. 
What  was  miracle  at  Pentecost  became  humility 
in  the  great  apostle  of  the  nations.  With  infinite 
self-restraint,  he  behaved  as  a  Jew  to  the  Jews  and  a 
Greek  to  the  Greeks.  Deliberately,  he  got  into 
touch  with  labour  by  working  as  a  tent-maker. 
Here  was  loving  your  neighbour  as  yourself — here 
was  looking  also  on  the  things  of  others.  It  was 
an  eager,  concentrated,  winning  look.  The  man, 
lame  from  his  mother's  womb,  had  never  been 
regarded  with  such  a  piercing  attention  as  that  de- 
voted to  him  by  Peter  and  John.  The  one  lan- 
guage of  Christ  was  also  the  most  intense  language 
and  the  spiritual  intuition  of  the  apostles  stopped 
the  very  heart-beats  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira. 

Universal,  intense,  simple — that  was  the  speech 
of  the  Spirit.  The  idea  that  we  talk  and  write  well 
when  we  use  long  words  is  not  of  Christ.  An  evil 
Church  in  Corinth  hoped  to  display  spiritual  gifts 
by  praying  in  an  unknown  tongue  and  even  to-day 
a  great  Communion  holds  forth  the  message  in 
ancient  Latin.  Much  theology  is  almost  as  hard 
to  comprehend,  and  there  is  a  wisdom  of  words  that 
makes  the  cross  of  Christ  of  none  effect.  As  Paul 
told  Timothy  to  let  no  man  despise  his  youth,  so, 
on  his  own  behalf,  he  let  no  man  despise  a  childlike 
gospel.  In  the  presence  of  God,  let  thy  syllables 
be  few — one  is  enough  for  sin.  For  as  Our  Saviour 
still  stands  at  the  door  of  those  hearts  which  He 
loved  unto  death,  He  is  content  with  a  brief  knock, 
— merely  a  knock — which  however  leaves  a  stain 


THE  GIFT  OF  ONE  LANGUAGE  67 

of  life  blood  from  wounds  on  a  hand  not  yet  healed. 
That  knock  arrests  our  notice,  and  those  who  listen 
as  John  did  for  the  voice,  will  hear  a  sound  of  many- 
waters,  many  tears, — a  language  known  the  whole 
world  over — flowing  with  infinite  patience  and 
sympathy  through  every  cranny  of  human  experi- 
ence,— and  gathering  volume  unto  itself  until  like 
the  ocean  the  voice  of  the  Lord  shall  cover  the 
earth  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea. 


IX 
COMMON  OWNERSHIP  OF  PROPERTY 

AMID  our  turmoil  of  industry  it  is  not  easy  for 
us  to  realize  that  the  early  Christians  were 
also  bewildered  by  the  contrasts  between  wealth 
and  poverty.  They  did  not  travel  in  automobiles  or 
surmount  the  clouds  in  aeroplanes,  but  in  all  essen- 
tials the  Roman  civilization  which  they  had  to  face 
was  as  perplexing  as  ours.  Yet  they  were  simple 
men  who  had  big  things  to  do,  and  they  could  not 
shut  themselves  up  in  libraries  to  read  and  to  write 
elaborate  treatises  on  political  economy.  We  our- 
selves now  see  that  such  treatises,  however  ponder- 
ous, are  futile  as  a  defense  against  social  unrest. 
The  views  of  the  disciples  may  have  been  elemen- 
tary, but  they  were  none  the  less  as  final  and  in- 
evitable as  a  theorem  in  mathematics.  These  views 
could  be  stated  briefly,  in  a  few  direct  and  unan- 
swerable pages,  to  which  modern  thought  has 
added  nothing  save  an  occasional  application. 

Every  day  these  followers  of  Christ  obeyed  Him 
by  studying  the  Scriptures  or  Old  Testament. 
Thence  they  derived  the  central  fact  of  God,  who 
alone  created  and  alone  sustains  the  universe  and 
whatever  lives  therein.  From  this  they  argued  that 
no  man  owns  property  or  even  himself,  but  that  all 
of  us  are  by  a  strict  law  of  inheritance  servants,  or 

68 


COMMON  OWNERSHIP  OF  PROPERTY    69 

as  Paul  expressed  it,  bond-servants  of  the  Almighty. 
It  was  true  that  this  bond  had  been  reduced  to  a 
scrap  of  paper  by  the  terrific  catastrophe  which  the 
Christians  called  sin,  but  the  soul  of  man,  and  there- 
fore his  property,  were  redeemed  or  bought  back 
by  no  less  a  price  than  the  actual  and  precious  blood 
of  Christ.  This  was  Peter's  phrase,  and  it  followed 
that  since  Jesus,  who  had  been  rich,  for  our  sakes 
became  poor,  we  are  no  longer  concerned  with  the 
rights,  but  only  with  the  obligations  attaching  to 
whatever  we  have  and  are.  For  our  talents,  be  they 
few  or  many,  we  are  only  trustees,  and  as  trustees 
we  have  to  administer  our  so-called  possessions 
more  strictly  than  if  we  could  call  them  our  own. 

The  disciples,  therefore,  did  not  talk  as  we  do 
about  the  resources  of  a  province  or  the  fortune  of 
a  millionaire,  or  the  claims  of  labour.  Neither  na- 
tion nor  individual  nor  classes  within  the  commu- 
nity could  thus  exercise  an  ultimate  proprietorship. 
In  God  alone,  wrote  Paul  to  the  people  of  Colosse, 
do  all  things  consist,  and  the  word  sanctification,  at 
which  we  so  often  sneer,  means  that  we  recognize  a 
legal  covenant  with  the  Divine.  If  we  yield  our- 
selves a  willing  sacrifice,  we  do  nothing  illogical  or 
extraordinary,  but  merely  accept  a  reasonable  or 
obvious  service.  This  was  how  the  Apostle  put  the 
case  to  the  Romans,  actually  living  in  Rome,  in 
which  city  was  enshrined  a  traditional  respect  for 
public  law.  It  is  when  man  challenges  God  that  he 
complicates  his  life  and  prepares  the  way  for  those 
systems  of  philosophy  which  are  age-long  litigation 
between  rights  and  wrongs.  A  straight  line  is  more 
direct  than  a  maze,  and  similarly,  as  Paul  told  the 
too   sophisticated   Corinthians,   the   foolishness  of 


70  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

God  which  sa3^s  so  Uttle  and  says  that  little  so 
simply  yet  leaves  no  more  to  be  said,  is  wiser  than 
man.  Neither  socialism  nor  individualism  is  thus 
from  the  Christian  standpoint  an  answer  to  the 
fundamental  question  of  ownership.  Relieved  of 
such  controversies  the  disciples  were  able  to  devote 
all  their  attention  to  the  manifest  needs  of  their 
next  door  neighbours.  About  the  wealth  of  others 
they  did  not  worry,  but  they  put  their  own  goods 
under  the  hammer  and  brought  the  money  to  the 
apostle's  feet.  By  this  act  they  obeyed  the  Master, 
who  told  the  young  ruler  to  sell  all  he  had  and  give 
to  the  poor.  If  there  is  anything  in  what  we  possess 
which  does  not  belong  in  fact  to  Christ,  let  us  get 
rid  of  it — the  claim  of  the  poor  may  be  imperfect, 
but  it  is  a  sounder  claim  than  ours.  Our  rights  are 
limited  clearly  to  the  one  coat — to  precisely  what, 
in  following  Him  we  can  devote  to  His  service — all 
this  and  nothing  more.  That  may  include  a  college 
education  like  Paul's,  the  quiet  roof  of  a  house, 
which  Peter  enjoyed  at  Joppa,  or  a  valuable  case  of 
surgical  instruments  for  Luke,  the  beloved  physi- 
cian. On  his  last  visit  to  Jerusalem,  Paul  brought 
baggage  and  did  not  hesitate  to  use  ships.  In  Rome 
he  hired  a  residence  or  apartment  and  entertained 
company.  From  the  Philippians  he  accepted  fees 
for  preaching.  As  men  learn  a  lesson  at  school,  so 
had  he  learnt  to  be  rich  and  also  to  be  poor.  He 
knew  how  to  abound  and  how  to  suffer  need.  Even 
with  filthy  lucre,  he  was  a  man  who  could  be 
trusted. 

The  mere  sale  of  goods  did  not  dispose  of  the 
duty  in  respect  of  them.  If  one  person  sells,  it 
means  that  another  person  buys,  and  when  Barna- 


COMMON  OWNERSHIP  OF  PROPERTY    71 

bas  got  rid  of  his  estates  in  Cyprus,  probably  to  a 
pagan  landlord,  there  is  no  evidence  that  the  ten- 
ants welcomed  the  change.  Christians  sometimes 
relieve  their  consciences  by  getting  rid  of  brewery 
shares.  And  they  do  well.  But  if  the  breweries  fall 
into  less  scrupulous  hands  there  may  be  even  worse 
beer.  Also  it  was  at  the  feet  of  the  apostles,  not  at 
the  feet  of  Christ  Himself,  that  the  gifts  were  laid. 
The  operation,  when  analyzed,  was  thus  only  a 
transfer  of  trusteeship  from  some  men  and  women 
to  other  men  and  women.  And  the  apostles  them- 
selves, so  far  from  welcoming  these  added  responsi- 
bilities, were  quick  to  seek  relief  from  them,  ap- 
pointing the  deacons  to  administer  the  funds,  which 
deacons  may  have  been  in  some  cases  the  very  men 
who  had  made  the  original  bequests.  Nor  was  it  a 
fact  that  the  money,  whether  given  away  or  re- 
ceived, produced  in  men  and  women  a  Christlike 
disposition.  Simon  Magus  discovered  that  you  can- 
not purchase  for  cash  the  power  of  the  Spirit,  and 
in  Paul's  heart  it  was  the  Spirit  that  mastered  the 
money,  not  the  money  that  mastered  the  Spirit. 
Similarly  to  Ananias  and  Sapphira  a  subscription 
list  was  a  vehicle  for  mere  worldliness.  People 
were  invited  to  applaud  the  magnitude  of  the  dona- 
tion, and  so  forgot  how  large  a  balance  was  still 
withheld.  These  unhappy  benefactors  were  like 
those  who  sing  *'  Naught  that  I  have  my  own  I  call, 
I  hold  it  for  the  Giver,"  while  they  double  not 
only  their  contributions  to  missions  but  of  their  gar- 
ages and  music  rooms.  Also  to  the  Grecian  and 
Hebrew  widows,  money  was  a  token  of  the  material 
in  life — a  subject  of  rivalry  and  murmuring,  a  con- 
cession to  the  flesh.     Regarded  as  an  end  in  itself, 


72  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

money  thus  became  the  root  of  all  evil — whether 
devil,  world  or  flesh — and  woe  be  to  the  man  who, 
in  the  words  of  Jude,  ran  greedily  after  the  error  of 
Balaam  for  reward.  The  idea  of  Simon  Magus  that 
God  has  His  price  was  only  one  degree  worse  than 
the  idea  of  Balaam  that  man  has  his  price. 

Believing  in  trusteeship,  the  disciples  did  not 
exact  vows  of  poverty.  For  Ananias  and  Sapphira 
it  would  have  been  better  if  they  had  not  given 
away  anything  at  all.  Cornelius,  the  centurion  of 
the  Italian  band,  was  rich  and  could  travel  with  two 
servants  to  wait  on  him.  At  Philippi,  Paul  did  not 
ask  Lydia  to  allow  him  to  run  her  dye-house  for 
her,  nor  did  he  object  to  her  selling  purple  clothes 
to  those  who  wanted  to  wear  purple.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  used  the  dye-house  as  a  place  of  prayer. 
At  Ephesus  there  was  no  objection  to  a  silversmith 
as  such,  but  Demetrius  and  his  fellow-craftsmen 
must  learn  that  with  the  march  of  progress  there  is 
a  time  limit  set  for  shrines  dedicated  to  the  goddess 
Diana.  Philemon,  though  he  owned  slaves,  was 
still  a  brother  beloved  and  fellow-labourer,  but  he 
must  remember  that  Onesimus,  though  a  slave  who 
had  absconded  with  money,  still  belonged  to  the 
royal  family  of  heaven.  James  did  not  object  to  the 
rich  man  with  a  gold  ring  coming  to  church.  But 
the  rich  man  must  be  ready  to  sit  next  the  poor  man 
who  comes  in  vile  raiment  and  must  ask  himself 
why  that  man  is  so  poor. 

The  disciples  did  not  believe  in  loot.  To  the 
Bolsheviki,  Paul  would  write  as  he  wTOte  to  the 
Ephesians,  "Let  him  that  stole  steal  no  more." 
The  sin  of  theft  is  not  that  we  take  what  belongs  to 
a  fellow  man  or  woman,  but  that  in  the  words  of 


COMMON  OWNERSHIP  OF  PllOPERTY    73 

Malachi,  we  rob  God  of  what  He  has  entrusted  to 
another.  At  Jerusalem  a  system  of  doles  did  not 
prevent  the  church  sinking  into  distress.  So  indi- 
gent were  the  Judean  disciples  that  money  had  to 
be  collected  for  them  throughout  the  Balkan  and 
other  communities.  The  apostles  thus  insisted 
upon  people  doing  productive  work.  Although  he 
was  confronted  by  the  momentous  struggle  be- 
tween Gentile  and  Jewish  Christians,  Paul  yet 
found  time  and  energy  to  pursue  the  trade  of  a  tent- 
maker,  which  was  suitable  for  his  weakened  eye- 
sight. Like  any  other  artisan,  he  earned  and  lived 
within  his  wages,  and  while  the  wealthy  classes 
commented  upon  his  mean  appearance,  he  was  re- 
spected by  rough  soldiers  and  sailors.  He  followed 
Christ  who  learned  obedience  by  undertaking  no 
public  work  until  the  toil  of  his  hands  had  provided 
for  a  widowed  mother. 

Men  so  reliable  as  the  early  Christians  were 
bound  to  emerge  from  poverty.  Laodicea  became 
rich  and  fashionable.  At  Corinth  they  had  collec- 
tions as  God  prospered  them.  Labour  yielded  a 
surplus,  and  this  surplus,  being  the  increase  from 
God,  was  a  debt  due  to  him  that  needeth.  Since 
Christ  was  the  ultimate  employer,  the  servant  must 
obey  the  master  in  the  flesh  with  the  fear,  the  trem- 
bling, the  singleness  of  heart  and  the  good  will  with 
which  Christ  should  be  obeyed.  The  master  on  his 
side  must  forbear  threatening  his  servant,  since  the 
servant  also  belongs  to  Christ.  Mastership  is  just  a 
different  form  of  service,  and  whatever  goods  were 
supplied  to  the  public  must  be  honest  in  the  sight 
of  all  men,  who  are  thus  granted  the  same  right  of 
inspection  that  belongs  to  the  all-seeing  eye  of  the 


U  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Lord  Who  is  at  hand.  In  several  epistles  Paul  laid 
down  these  principles. 

Wages  must  be  just  and  equal — what  we  call  a 
square  deal.  The  servant  might  be  bond  or  free, 
but  in  either  event  there  must  be  justice.  James  did 
not  admit  that  the  poor  man  in  vile  raiment  is  a 
necessity  of  civilization.  He  came  of  a  race  which 
was  born  in  Egypt  out  of  a  labour  dispute,  in  which 
the  bricklayers  rebelled  against  the  sweating  sys- 
tem. As  was  written  to  the  Hebrews,  Moses 
would  not  enjoy  the  treasures  so  won, — he  re- 
turned his  excess  profits — preferring  to  share  the 
grievances  of  the  workers — which  grievances,  by  a 
daring  and  inspired  anachronism,  the  author  calls 
"  the  reproach  of  Christ."  Imbued  with  such  mem- 
ories, the  Jew  held  that  every  family  should  dwell 
securely  under  its  own  vine  and  fig  tree,  enjoying  to 
the  full  the  fruit  of  toil  and  only  taxed  up  to  a  tithe 
for  social  and  spiritual  purposes. 

To  James,  therefore,  it  is  fraud  to  hold  back  the 
wage  of  a  hired  man.  If,  said  he,  rich  men  do  this, 
then  let  them  weep  and  howl  for  the  miseries  that 
shall  come  upon  them,  for  they  must  explain  their 
conduct  to  the  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth.  Because 
they  insisted  upon  a  living  wage  all  round,  the 
Christian  clergy  were  able  from  the  outset  to  de- 
fend a  sufficient  remuneration  for  those  who 
preached  the  Gospel.  Since  every  labourer  is 
worthy  of  his  hire,  it  followed  that  thou  shalt  not 
muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the  corn.  After 
three  long  years  of  mental  effort,  spent  in  Arabia, 
Paul  knew  well  by  what  weariness  of  mind,  by  what 
agony  of  thought,  they  whom  he  ironically  com- 
pared with  oxen,  do  tread  out  the  corn,  which  by 


COMMON  OWNERSHIP  OF  PROPERTY    75 

God's  spirit  becomes  the  bread  of  life  for  the  world. 
And  he  insisted  that  it  should  be  corn,  not  wood 
hay  stubble.  He  was  as  much  opposed  to  the  adul- 
teration of  the  Gospel  as  he  was  to  the  adulteration 
of  any  other  commodity.  Like  everything  else,  the 
Christian  message  had  to  be  provided  honest  in  the 
sight  of  all  men. 

In  the  early  Church,  therefore,  the  industrial 
problem,  though  as  acute  as  ours  and  as  bafBing  to 
Roman  statesmanship,  was  solved  by  the  uncom- 
promising recognition  of  God's  ultimate  claim  both; 
to  material  property  and  to  human  effort — both  to 
capital  and  to  labour.  This  principle  was  not,  how- 
ever, enough.  To  the  Apostle  Paul,  happiness,  like 
every  other  art,  had  to  be  acquired  and  perfected 
by  lifelong  toil.  He  was  not  born  a  contented  man. 
"  I  have  learnt,"  he  said,  "  in  whatsoever  state  I  am 
therewith  to  be  content."  He  was  instructed  both 
to  be  full  and  to  be  hungry,  both  to  abound  and  to 
suffer  need.  It  was  a  gradual  and  painful  conquest 
over  circumstances — this  habit  of  rejoicing  "  every- 
where and  in  all  things."  It  was  the  strengthening 
of  Christ  which  made  the  difference  between  Paul, 
who  accepted  poverty,  and  other  Jews  who,  with 
the  same  theory  of  Jehovah,  clung  tenaciously  to 
wealth.  Without  the  alternative  riches  of  grace 
which  Paul  claimed,  men  and  women  will  seldom  if 
ever  practice  the  self-denial  which  Christ  taught. 


X 

THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING 

MIRACLES  are  of  chief  concern  not  to  scholars 
and  theologians  who  usually  discuss  them, 
but  to  the  diseased,  the  wounded  and  the  defective, 
for  whom  pain  and  weariness  are  among  the  facts 
of  every  day  as  it  dawns.  The  disciples  were  wit- 
nesses of  those  signs  and  wonders,  especially  of 
healing,  which  they  had  seen  when  Christ  walked 
this  earth,  but  they  were  quick  to  realize  that  such 
miracles  had  not  sensibly  diminished  the  world's 
burden  of  sickness  and  sorrow,  and  in  Paul's  im- 
mortal words,  they  recognized  that  "  the  last  enemy 
that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death."  Entering  the 
Temple,  Peter  and  John  at  once  noticed  a  man  lame 
from  his  mother's  womb.  At  Lydda,  a  few  miles 
distant,  there  lay  /Eneas,  stricken  with  paralysis, 
while  to  the  Christians  of  Joppa  the  death  of  Dorcas 
seemed  irreparable.  At  Lystra,  Paul  and  Barnabas 
found  another  cripple,  and  when  at  Troas  the 
Apostle  preached  long  and  late  in  a  hot  room, 
Eutychus  fell  asleep,  tumbled  from  the  window  and 
was  stunned  unconscious.  Even  in  Malta,  Paul 
came  across  the  father  of  Publius,  chief  man  in 
that  island,  who  lay  sick  of  a  fever,  complicated  by 
hemorrhage.     It    was    no    imaginary    or    painless 

76 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING  Y7 

world  that  the  disciples  mastered,  but  that  same 
tragic  existence  which  we  ourselves  know  and 
share. 

Happily  for  us,  the  experiences  of  the  disciples 
were  recorded  by  a  trained  medical  practitioner 
called  Luke,  who  knew  the  organs  of  the  body,  as 
we  can  see  from  the  terms  in  which  he  described 
the  deaths  of  the  Iscariot  and  of  Herod.  Luke  had 
learnt  anatomy,  and  could  define  an  ankle-bone. 
With  such  an  influence  in  their  midst,  the  disciples 
reached  their  conclusions  not  by  argument  but  by 
observation.  They  watched  phenomena,  and  after 
many  centuries  their  method  of  scientific  deduc- 
tion has  been  adopted  by  every  great  university. 
If  in  some  respects  their  insight  remains  in  ad- 
vance of  ours,  it  is  because,  in  studying  as  we  do 
the  methods  of  God,  they  did  not  exclude  from 
their  calculation  a  due  allowance  for  God's  inimit- 
able power.  If  God  did  not  always  cure  the  body, 
He  was  still  able  to  do  it.  He  handles  us,  to 
quote  Paul's  anticipation  of  Omar  Khayyam,  as  the 
potter  handles  the  clay. 

The  Romans  were  a  people  who  above  all  else 
reverenced  law.  Writing  to  them,  Paul  elaborated 
the  principle  which  we  now  universally  accept,  that 
our  bodies,  with  all  their  apparent  vicissitudes,  are 
also  subject  to  rule.  In  his  pathology,  there  is  no 
hint  of  the  anarchist  mind.  Disease  is  not  an  acci- 
dent, but  can  be  traced  to  a  moral  source.  The 
only  body  that  escaped  corruption  was  the  slain, 
yet  sinless  body  of  Christ.  Under  the  bondage  of 
suffering,  the  whole  creation  groans,  and  Paul  him- 
self, who  may  have  been  epileptic,  prayed  to  be  de- 
livered from  the  body  of  this  death.     In  what  we 


78  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

call  the  age  of  miracles,  this  was  his  attitude,  and  he 
differed  from  us  in  one  thing  only,  that  his  view  of 
pain  and  death  was  deeper  and  more  discerning 
than  ours.  While  defining  the  laws  of  God,  he  also 
asserted  God's  sovereignty.  Here  was  a  Monarch 
endowed  with  the  prerogative  of  mercy.  Because 
He  punishes.  He  can  also  pardon.  Because  He 
condemns.  He  can  also  reprieve.  Because  He 
passes  laws,  which  all  must  obey.  He  can  also  sus- 
pend law  and  authorize  what  men  will  consider  to 
be  a  miracle.  And  in  certain  cases  He  does  this. 
The  object  is  not  that  a  man  here  or  a  woman  there 
should  have  the  material  life  prolonged  for  a  few 
years,  but  that  the  authority  of  God  over  all  life 
may  be  understood.  When  people  suffer  pain,  they 
must  have  the  assurance  that  it  comes  to  them,  not 
by  blind  and  inevitable  destiny,  but  by  the  decision 
of  unutterable  love.  God  is  strong  enough  to  cure 
them,  but  He  refrains.  Though  He  slay  us,  yet 
will  we  trust  in  Him.  Without  the  signs  and  won- 
ders— the  startling  contrast  to  a  normal  routine — 
we  could  never  have  learnt  this  lesson. 

When  Christ  ascended  into  heaven,  He  entrusted 
His  cause  to  certain  followers.  These  men  were 
to  be  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  whose  power 
Christ  Himself  had  lived  and  worked  and  suffered. 
To  the  disciples  therefore,  Our  Lord  promised  that 
they  also  should  cast  out  devils,  speak  with  tongues, 
live  unhurt  if  they  drink  any  deadly  thing,  and  re- 
cover the  sick  by  laying  on  hands.  This  pledge  is 
recorded  in  the  final  verses  of  St.  Mark's  Gospel, 
which,  we  are  told  by  scholars,  were  written  as  a 
later  addition  to  the  Book.  If  this  be  so,  we  have  a 
noteworthy   corroboration   of  those   events   which 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING  79 

are  narrated  in  the  Acts.  Why  should  the  men, 
who  added  this  postscript  to  the  earliest  Gospel, 
have  put  in  a  series  of  promises  if  they  had  never 
been  fulfilled?  The  phrase,  Christian  Scientist,  is 
in  itself  quite  accurate.  There  is  no  science  out- 
side Christ.  And  it  is  only  the  scientific  mind  that 
can  appreciate  the  final  truth  of  our  faith.  The 
viper  that  dropped  harmless  from  Paul's  hand  is 
merely  a  prophetic  symbol  of  what  the  microscope 
has  since  discovered.  With  our  every  breath  v^e 
inhale  the  germs  of  plague  and  fever.  With  every 
sip  of  purest  water  we  drink  the  deadliest  poison. 
Yet,  in  Christ,  we  are  physically  immortal  till  our 
work  is  done,  and  afterwards,  immortal  in  spirit 
forevermore.  In  this  Providence,  which  shapes 
our  ends,  there  is  nothing  of  hazard  or  chance.  It 
may  be  life,  or  it  may  be  death — we  know  not 
which — but  in  either  event,  Christ  alone  is  to  be 
magnified  in  the  body. 

Every  poet — every  painter — every  dramatist 
knows  that  things  seen  are  symbols  of  the  unseen. 
A  dog  cannot  wag  his  tail  and  a  cat  cannot  purr 
without  suggesting  afifection  and  pleasure.  For 
centuries,  the  Jewish  people  had  associated  the 
terrible  disease  of  leprosy,  with  its  contaminations, 
and  its  horrible  uncleanness,  with  the  idea  of  sin. 
When  a  leper  was  declared  clean,  there  was  a  cere- 
monial not  essentially  different  from  those  which 
expressed  forgiveness  of  guilt.  In  the  early  Church 
the  power  of  God  unto  healing  thus  symbolized 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation.  Hence  it  is  that 
in  narratives  like  the  Gospels  and  the  Acts  you 
find  frequent  descriptions  of  miracles,  whereas  in 
the  Epistles,  miracles  are  scarcely  mentioned.    The 


80  THE  CHUliCH  WE  FORGET 

narratives  deal  with  the  approach  of  Christ  and  His 
followers  to  the  world.  Through  what  they  could 
see  of  signs  and  wonders,  the  people  were  taught 
like  children  to  understand  the  unseen.  But  the 
letters  were  written  to  men  and  women  who  had 
joined  the  Church.  These  had  experienced  pre- 
sumably that  larger  miracle  by  which  the  soul  is 
changed,  and  what  Paul  and  Peter  and  John  talked 
about,  therefore,  was  not  a  new  limb,  but  a  new 
man, — not  a  transformation  from  sickness  to  health, 
but  a  transformation  from  darkness  unto  light,  from 
exile  unto  home,  and  from  evil  unto  God. 

None  could  have  been  greater  authorities  on 
miracles  than  Peter  and  John.  Their  reminiscences 
would  have  been  of  an  absorbing  interest.  We 
can  imagine  how  eagerly  they  would  have  been 
sought  out  by  the  modern  journalist  or  publisher. 
Yet,  in  their  correspondence,  as  we  read  it  to-day, 
Peter  and  John  are  silent  on  the  subject.  Yet,  as 
we  read  their  writings,  we  are  not  conscious  that 
in  their  old  age  they  have  lost  any  particle  of  their 
belief  in  and  wonder  at  the  manifest  power  of  God. 
Their  minds  as  revealed  are  of  a  piece  with  their 
deeds  as  recorded.  And  Paul's  attitude  was  equally 
clear.  In  the  Acts  we  are  told  that  at  Corinth  the 
Lord  wrought  special  miracles  by  his  hand.  A 
mere  handkerchief  taken  from  his  body  became 
the  instrument  of  healing.  Yet  when  Paul  wrote 
to  the  Corinthians,  he  says  nothing  of  this,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  tells  them  how  he  was  with  them  in. 
weakness  and  in  fear  and  in  trembling,  so  that  they 
sometimes  despised  his  mean  appearance.  He  was, 
if  anything,  too  humble,  and  when  they  took  lib- 
erties with  him,  the  miracles  came,  despite  himself, 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING  81 

as  if  the  Master  insisted  upon  the  transfiguration  of 
His  servant. 

I  do  not  doubt  that  while   these   things  were 
happening  at  Corinth,  there  were  people  in  Judea, 
and  GaUlee,  w^ho  went  about  saying  that  the  age 
of  miracles  had  ceased.     This  was  because  the  only 
men  who  worked  them  in  the  early  Church  were 
the  men  who  could  be  trusted  not  to  boast  about 
them  afterwards.     We  read  that  Stephen  did  great 
wonders  and   miracles,   but  from   his   speech   you 
would  never  have   guessed  it.     Paul  made   more 
than  one  personal  defense,  but  the  only  miracle  that 
he  described  was  the  thunderbolt  that  shattered 
his  own  pride.     For  Timothy,  his  own  son  in  the 
faith,  and  for  Titus,  he  desired  every  spiritual  ad- 
vantage, but  such  advantage  did  not  include  the 
power  to  work   miracles.     The   Corinthians  were 
told   to   covet   earnestly   the   best  gifts,   but   their 
hierarchy  was  to  be  first  apostles,  secondly  prophets, 
thirdly  teachers,  and  after  that  miracles,  and  then, 
only  then,  gifts  of  healing.     The  one  fear  of  Peter 
and  John  was  lest  it  should  be  thought  that  in  them- 
selves  they   had   the   power   to   strengthen   a   de- 
formed  foot,   while   those  who   would   have   wor- 
shipped Paul  and  Barnabas  as  gods,  were  astounded 
to  see  them  rend  their  clothes.     Nor  did  they  claim 
any  authority  that  could  be  delegated  to  others. 
As  Simon  Magus  discovered,  here  was  something 
not  to  be  bought  with  money — an  incalculable  ex- 
pression of  God's  supreme  and  mysterious  purpose. 
In  their  endeavour  to  rid  themselves  of  personal 
glory,    the    disciples    were    completely    successful. 
The  Sanhedrin  were  entirely  satisfied  that  an  im- 
potent man  had  been  healed.     It  is  absurd,  they 


82  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

said,  for  us  to  deny  it,  but  that  fact  did  not  prevent 
them  from  seizing  and  scourging,  and  even  slaying, 
the  very  men  through  whose  agency  the  wonderful 
works  were  done.  Indeed,  it  was  the  miracles  of 
Stephen,  as  of  Peter  and  John,  which  provoked  the 
hostility  that  ended  in  persecution,  and  at  Lystra, 
after  a  miracle,  Paul  was  stoned.  At  Philippi  also, 
after  another  miracle,  the  apostle  was  beaten,  and 
it  was  not  of  the  miracle,  but  of  this  shameful  treat- 
ment that  he  afterwards  reminded  the  Thessa- 
lonians,  who  lived  in  a  neighbouring  town.  What 
Paul  suffered  for  Christ  was  thus  a  stronger  argu- 
ment than  what  in  Christ's  name  he  achieved,  and 
when  he  told  the  Galatians  about  his  conversion  at 
Damascus,  he  did  not  mention  the  scales  which  fell 
from  his  eyes,  but  his  ignominious  escape  in  a 
basket.  Paul  never  forgot  the  humiliation  of  that 
basket. 

We  thus  arrive  at  this  conclusion — that  the  final 
test  of  goodness  is  not  our  ability  to  escape  from 
pain  and  death,  or  even  to  secure  such  an  escape  for 
others,  but  to  suffer  these  things — to  suffer  them 
with  Christ.  On  one  occasion,  when  he  was 
arguing  with  the  Corinthians,  Paul  was,  as  it  were, 
driven  to  boasting.  But  in  what  things  did  he 
glory?  In  miracles?  Not  at  all.  He  spoke  about 
labours  more  abundant,  stripes  above  measure, 
prisons  more  frequent,  deaths  oft.  Of  the  Jews, 
said  he,  five  times  received  I  forty  stripes  save  one. 
Thrice  was  I  beaten  with  rods.  Once  was  I  stoned. 
Thrice  I  suffered  shipwreck.  A  night  and  a  day  I 
have  been  in  the  deep.  He  mentions  journeyings 
often,  perils  of  waters,  perils  of  robbers,  perils  by 
his  countrymen,  perils  by  the  heathen,  perils  in  the 


THE  MIEACLES  OF  HEALmG  83 

city,  perils  in  the  wilderness,  perils  in  the  sea, 
perils  among  false  brethren.  He  confesses  to 
weariness  and  pain,  to  watchings  often,  to  hunger 
and  thirst,  to  fastings  often,  to  cold  and  nakedness, 
and  finally,  to  the  burden  of  care  for  all  the 
churches.  Thrice  he  prayed  that  the  thorn  in  his 
flesh  might  be  removed.  These  prayers  of  Geth- 
semane  were  unanswered.  The  grace  of  God, 
which  began  with  the  healing  of  the  body,  was  only 
made  perfect  in  the  body's  weakness.  The  power 
of  Christ  which  could  command  health  was  most 
gloriously  displayed  amid  infirmities.  By  a  miracle 
you  may  learn  His  Omnipotence.  By  endurance 
you  learn  His  love  and  comfort, — not  the  abolition 
of  weeping,  but  tears  wiped  away.  Christians  were 
people  who  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  only 
through  all  pain  did  they  arrive  at  the  God  of  all 
consolation. 

Some  men  are  not  moved  by  miracles.  It  was 
the  Jews  who  required  a  sign,  while  the  Greeks 
sought  after  wisdom.  Some  minds  are  religious, 
others  are  secular,  but  for  Jews  as  well  as  Greeks, 
Paul  preached  Christ  the  Power,  and  Christ  the 
Wisdom  of  God.  Though  no  miracle  was  per- 
formed at  Athens,  he  said  in  thrilling  words  that 
God  was  not  far  from  any  of  them.  Where  mil- 
lions overlooked  the  spectacle  of  pain,  in  the  hearts 
of  the  disciples  it  evoked  sympathy.  Thousands 
had  passed  the  lame  man  at  the  beautiful  gate  of 
the  Temple.  Until  Peter  and  John  came,  none  had 
looked  earnestly  on  him  and  gripped  his  hand. 
Thousands  of  prisoners  had  been  scourged  in  the 
prison  at  Philippi.  Until  Paul  and  Silas  came, 
none  had  had  their  wounds  bathed  by  the  Gov- 


84  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

ernor.  Reckless  of  his  own  health,  Paul  was 
tender  as  a  nervous  grandparent  of  Timothy's  fre- 
quent ailments.  He  warned  him  against  drinking 
water  and  told  him  to  take  a  little  wine  for  his 
stomach's  sake.  And  when  Epaphroditus  was 
dangerously  ill  at  Rome,  Paul  felt  that  his  death 
would  bring  sorrow  on  sorrow.  He  did  not  forget 
Trophimus,  left  sick  at  Miletus.  On  no  occasion 
did  the  apostles  fail  to  lay  aside  all  other  work 
when  the  sick  needed  attention.  Nor  did  they  ever 
deny  the  reality  of  suffering.  On  the  contrary,  in 
the  catalogue  of  heroism  which  you  find  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  the  climax  is  not  centered 
on  those  who  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched 
the  violence  of  fire,  and  escaped  the  edge  of  the 
sword,  but  on  the  others  who  were  actually  tor- 
tured, not  accepting  deliverance,  that  they  might 
obtain  a  better  resurrection  than  that  of  the  body, — 
of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy. 

Hence,  it  was  the  practical  mind  of  James  which 
formulated  the  policy  of  the  Church  towards  the 
sick.  He  approached  the  problem  from  the  mate- 
rial and  the  spiritual  standpoint,  both  together,  not 
one  without  the  other.  On  the  one  hand,  a  sick 
person  should  be  anointed  with  oil,  and  it  is  here 
curious  to  remark  that  the  oil  of  James,  with  the 
wine  of  Paul,  were  the  remedies  applied  by  the 
Good  Samaritan  to  the  man  who  fell  among 
thieves.  About  that  oil  there  was  no  particular 
magic.  There  is  no  suggestion  that  it  was  con- 
secrated. It  was  a  simple  secular  remedy.  It  was 
the  initial  step  in  all  that  has  since  been  discovered 
by  our  physicians  and  surgeons. 

But    the    oil    was    not    enough.     Prayer    came 


THE  MIRACLES  OF  HEALING  86 

first — a  prayer  reaching  the  mind  and  conscience  of 
the  sufferer — a  prayer  which  anticipates  all  that  we 
now  know  of  the  value  of  suggestion  in  the  treat- 
ment of  disease — a  prayer  for  forgiveness  as  well 
as  cure.  The  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  right- 
eous man,  says  James,  availeth  much — availeth 
much,  but  not  all.  There  remains  the  supreme 
partnership  of  the  Almighty,  with  whom  alone  lie 
the  issues  of  life  and  death.  "  I  am  in  a  strait  be- 
twixt the  two,"  said  Paul,  and  God  alone  knew 
which  would  be  best.  But  in  either  event  the 
determining  factor  was  to  be  Christ  magnified  in 
the  body,  which  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  Himself. 


XI 

MUTTERINGS  OF  PERSECUTION 

THE  disciples  lived  in  an  Empire  which  ex- 
tended as  one  political  organism  from  Britain 
to  Persia  and  embraced  the  shores  of  the  entire 
Mediterranean.  The  secular  historian  could  record 
an  era  of  unbroken  political  peace  and  in  Europe, 
Asia  and  Africa,  therefore,  the  missionaries  could 
travel  about  freely,  without  once  encountering  the 
interruption  of  foreign  war.  If  the  apostles  dis- 
covered the  seething  turmoil  which  already  threat- 
ened the  foundations  of  Society,  it  was  because 
they  moved  less  among  statesmen  than  among  the 
common  people,  and  looked  below  the  surface  of 
institutions,  direct  to  the  unsatisfied  human  heart. 
There  was  no  obvious  reason  why  the  cause  of 
Christ  should  come  into  collision  with  the  civil 
power.  If  Bethlehem  was  His  birthplace,  it  was 
because  Joseph  and  His  Mother  went  there,  obedi- 
ently, to  enroll  their  names  in  the  Roman  census, 
having  refused  to  be  drawn  into  the  revolt  insti- 
gated by  Judas  of  Galilee,  where  they  lived,  against 
the  still  heavier  taxation  imposed  by  Caesar  Au- 
gustus. They  avoided  also  the  similar  insurrection 
of  Theudas  which  occurred  about  that  time.  In 
later  years,  the  Master  Himself  had  paid  what  was 
due,  both  to  Rome  and  Jerusalem,  saying  that  we 
should    render   unto    Csesar    the    things    that    are 

86 


MUTTERINGS  OF  PERSECUTION  87 

Csesar's,  by  the  same  obligation  with  which  we 
render  unto  God  the  things  that  are  God's.  His 
followers,  however  enthusiastic,  were  not  permitted 
to  make  Him  a  King.  Deliberately  rejecting  the 
temporal  power,  grasped  later  by  certain  Christian 
Communions,  He  declared  that  His  Kingdom  was 
not  of  this  world — that  He  only  desired  to  reign 
within  the  heart  of  man.  He  declined  to  appoint 
James  and  John,  or  indeed  any  of  the  apostles  to 
be  Ministers  of  State,  nor  would  He  add  His  signa- 
ture to  any  charter  of  an  earthly  regime.  Finally, 
He  submitted  without  complaint  to  a  series  of 
trials  which  culminated  in  an  atrocious  miscarriage 
of  justice. 

After  some  initial  hesitation,  the  example  of  Our 
Lord  was  followed  by  His  disciples.  Over  relig- 
ious observances  like  circumcision,  Paul  had  his  dif- 
ferences with  Peter,  but  over  the  duty  of  obedience 
to  kings,  governors,  and  the  higher  powers,  the 
two  leaders  were  agreed.  Anything  less  than  such 
obedience  was  *'  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men  " — 
resistance  to  the  ordmance  of  God  Himself.  If 
private  vengeance  was  forbidden,  it  was  because 
the  Lord  will  repay,  and  repay  through  rulers  who 
bear  not  the  sword  in  vain,  being  appointed  to 
execute  wrath  on  them  who  do  evil  and,  for  this 
very  purpose,  to  collect  tribute.  In  enumerating 
the  fruits  of  the  Spirit, — love,  joy  and  peace — Paul 
adds,  with  a  curious  care,  that  "  against  such,  there 
is  no  law."  Born  a  Roman  citizen,  he  used  the 
fact,  both  at  Philippi,  where  illegally  they  had 
scourged  him,  and  at  Jerusalem,  where  they  had 
proposed  so  to  do.  Appearing  as  a  Roman  citizen 
before  Festus,  he  appealed  unto  Caesar;  and  when 


88  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

the  High  Priest  ordered  him  to  be  struck  on  the 
mouth,  he  did  indeed  rebuke  him,  but  immediately 
apologized,  because  no  one,  however  provoked, 
should  speak  evil  of  the  ruler  of  the  people. 

One  would  have  thought  that  a  creed  so  inof- 
fensive, a  practice  so  determined  on  submission, 
would  have  been  appreciated  by  the  state  as  an  ally 
and  an  assistance,  yet  within  a  few  days  of  Pente- 
cost, the  struggle  between  the  disciples  and  the  con- 
stituted authorities  under  which  they  lived  had  be- 
come acute.  Peter,  destined  as  he  knew  for  cruci- 
fixion, was  asking  whether  he  should  hearken  unto 
God  or  man.  And  after  the  passage  of  years,  Paul 
wrote  of  an  audience  with  the  Emperor,  to  whom 
he  had  appealed  for  justice,  as  a  deliverance  from 
the  mouth  of  a  lion.  Finally,  we  have  John,  describ- 
ing the  civil  power  as  a  beast  having  seven  heads  and 
ten  horns — and  on  his  heads  the  name  of  blasphemy 
— a  beast  like  a  leopard,  with  a  thirst  for  blood, — 
with  the  feet  of  a  bear,  the  mouth  of  a  lion,  and  the 
impulses  of  a  dragon.  In  his  vision  he  saw  Babylon 
the  Great  as  Mother  of  Harlots  and  of  abomina- 
tions of  the  earth,  and  whatever  be  our  interpreta- 
tion of  these  majestic  symbols,  it  is  clear  that  the 
reference  was  to  the  organized  "  powers  that  be  " 
which — ordained  by  God — had  somehow  sold  them- 
selves to  the  Devil. 

Often  we  are  told  that  the  Christians  drifted  into 
trouble  with  the  authorities  because,  in  their  awk- 
ward fidelity  to  principle,  they  declined  to  serve  in 
the  Roman  army  and  worship  the  deified  Roman 
Emperors.  These  offenses  may  have  arisen  in  later 
years,  but  not  one  hint  of  them  is  to  be  found  in  the 
New  Testament.     Cornelius  was  indeed  converted 


MUTTERINGS  OF  PERSECUTION  89 

as  a  centurion,  but  he  was  not  required  to  lay  aside 
his  armour;  while,  at  Lystra,  Paul  and  Silas  were 
stoned,  not  because  they  refused  to  worship  the 
pagan  gods,  but  because  they  would  not  accept  such 
worship  from  pagan  men.  It  was  this  very  humility 
of  the  Christians  that  laid  them  open  to  ill-treat- 
ment. If  Peter  and  John  had  claimed  that  by  their 
own  power  they  had  healed  the  cripple,  no  one 
would  have  objected.  By  thus  appropriating  credit 
they  would  have  conformed  to  the  general  standard 
of  the  time.  Like  other  people,  they  would  have  set 
themselves  up  to  be  somebody  and  while  rivals 
might  have  been  envious,  it  would  have  ended  there. 
But  when  they  assigned  all  virtue  and  authority  to 
Christ,  society  was  conscious  of  the  implied  rebuke. 
Men  instinctively  felt  the  challenge  of  the  Cross, 
and  united  to  resist  it.  If  Christ  alone  was  to  have 
glory,  then  the  entire  system  of  what  is  called  "  get- 
ting on  "  stood  condemned.  If  Christ  alone  could 
save,  then  the  best  of  us,  without  Him,  is  lost.  If 
Christ  alone  is  Master,  then  every  other  knee  must 
bow.  It  was  not  a  clash  of  one  system  against  an- 
other. Under  any  system  the  conflict  would  have 
been  the  same.  The  disciples  did  not  criticize  the 
abuses  of  Roman  society;  they  did  not  explicitly 
condemn  even  slavery,  and  so  far  from  denouncing 
the  Jewish  form  of  worship,  they  observed  it.  All 
they  had  said,  years  later,  was  that,  for  example,  in 
the  institution  of  marriage,  a  bishop  should  have 
one  wife.  For  the  rest,  whatever  results  followed 
from  their  teaching,  their  aim  was  not  to  overturn 
the  world,  as  men  imagined,  but  to  live  separate 
from  its  evils.  They  simply  refrained  from  iniquity, 
and  did  good. 


90  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Yet  persecution  arose — the  persecution  accu- 
rately foreseen  by  Christ  The  ill-treatment  o£ 
Christians,  carefully  analyzed,  was,  from  first  to 
last,  an  outward  symptom  of  the  struggle  in  the 
very  souls  of  men  which  was  set  up  when  Christ 
was  preached.  As  Peter  spoke  near  the  Temple, 
some  of  the  multitude  were  pricked  to  the  heart; 
when  he  repeated  his  appeal,  what  had  been  a  mere 
prick  became  a  wound, — they  were  cut  to  the  heart 
— or,  as  we  would  put  it,  they  were  cut  up  about  it. 
At  Christ's  trial  not  one  voice  was  raised  in  His 
favour,  but  after  His  death,  we  see  how,  at  Pen- 
tecost, His  cause  began  to  make  progress.  Many 
repented — changed  their  minds — and  entered  into 
happiness.  Others,  like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  kicked 
against  the  goad,  became  furious  with  pain  of 
conscience,  and  in  their  delirium  turned  on  their 
spiritual  tormentors.  The  converts,  even  num- 
bered at  five  thousand,  were  a  mere  handful,  but 
the  verdict  against  the  Redeemer  was  no  longer 
unanimous.  They  did  not  all  forsake  Him  and  flee. 
There  were  now  two  sides  to  the  question. 

Persecution  by  the  Jews  was  religious;  by  the 
Romans,  it  was  political;  but  the  root  of  the  mis- 
jchief  was  the  same, — a  hatred  against  any  act  or 
Word  which  demanded  or  suggested  the  control  of 
Christ.  They  would  not  have  this  Man  to  rule 
over  them.  In  many  communities  such  persecution 
continues  unabated  to  this  present  day.  Those  who 
know  Latin  countries  tell  us  that  a  Catholic  may 
turn  atheist  and  nothing  will  be  said.  But  let  him 
declare  for  Protestantism  and  it  may  cost  him  his 
place  in  society  and  commerce.  A  Jew  may  and 
often  does  drift  into  rationalism,  but  let  him  confess 


MUTTERINGS  OF  PERSECUTION  91 

that  he  is  a  Christian,  and  he  also  will  hear  of  it. 
Thousands  of  Moslems  are  now  secret  disciples, 
coming,  like  Nicodemus,  to  Christ  by  night.  The 
rejection  of  the  Messiah  and  His  ultimate  murder, 
to  which  Peter  refers  in  his  addresses,  did  not  con- 
stitute one  drama,  done  with  at  the  historic  Cal- 
vary. It  was  continuous.  It  goes  on  in  the  twenti- 
eth century.  Christ  is  still  misjudged.  He  is  still 
scourged.  He  still  bleeds.  He  still  dies  and  is  still 
buried.  He  still  rises  from  the  dead  and  ascends 
unto  heaven.  Like  Pilate,  men  still  try  to  wash 
their  hands  of  Him.  Such  were  the  Athenians  or 
the  aesthetic  community  who,  secure  in  literature 
and  art,  mocked  and  procrastinated  at  the  preach- 
ing of  Paul.  Such  was  Felix,  who,  engrossed  in  the 
compromises  of  politics  and  the  hopes  of  his  career, 
put  off  the  day  of  decision.  Such  was  Gallio,  who, 
trusting  to  his  sense  of  humour,  drove  the  Christ 
from  the  judgment  seat — the  place  of  serious  con- 
sideration— merely  meeting  the  issue  with  mimickry 
of  the  neighbouring  parson.  Others  thought  and 
thought  rightly  that  the  claim  of  Christ,  however 
diplomatically  presented,  must  turn  the  world  up- 
side down.  They  were  not  to  be  deceived  by 
camouflage.  Peter  might  hanker  after  the  circum- 
cision but  his  conservatism  did  not  conciliate  the 
Jews.  What  did  they  care  that  Paul  was  of  the 
tribe  of  Benjamin,  of  the  strictest  sect  of  the  Phari- 
sees, an  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  if,  with  this,  he 
had  sold  himself  as  bond-servant  to  the  Galilean? 
He  might  shave  his  head  at  Cenchrea.  To  keep  the 
peace  at  Jerusalem,  he  might  bind  himself  with  a 
Nazaritic  vow.  But  none  of  these  concessions  to 
the  Jewish   practice   counted  one  jot  when   they 


92  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOKGET 

^ 
realized  that,  at  heart,  he,  with  all  his  familiar  He- 
brew phrases,  belonged  to  Christ.  And  in  the  final 
diagnosis  of  his  case,  Rome  in  her  turn  judged  him, 
not  as  a  Roman  citizen,  which  citizenship  passes 
away,  but  as  a  man,  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger,  whose 
citizenship  was  in  heaven — whither  he  was,  in  con- 
sequence, forcibly  deported. 

Yet  rightly  understood,  the  Christian  Gospel  was 
and  is  the  one  alternative  to  revolution.  The  Tem- 
ple was  not  a  mere  chapel  or  synagogue — it  was  a 
national  institution.  Citizenship  was  represented 
by  the  Sanhedrin  or  Parliament.  Harps  and  trump- 
ets yielded  music.  The  very  dances  had  a  sacred 
meaning.  Lepers  came  to  the  Temple  after  heal- 
ing. Mothers  brought  their  babes.  Art  revealed 
the  Cherubim,  and  that  golden  vine,  on  which 
Christ  uttered  His  parable.  There  were  corridors 
for  debates.  There  were  altars  for  repentance;  and 
money  was  made  in  the  Temple,  where  also  money 
was  given  and  spent,  while  in  the  Temple  was 
justice  administered.  Destroy  the  Temple  and  so- 
ciety was  shattered.  And  the  Temple  was  des- 
troyed, not  by  an  earthquake,  nor  avalanche,  not 
by  volcano  nor  yet  by  flood,  but  by  the  deliberate 
hand  of  man.  Like  the  Chateaux  of  France,  the 
Tuileries  of  Paris,  the  Library  of  Louvain  and 
much  of  the  Cathedral  of  Rheims,  the  great  land- 
mark of  Jerusalem  disappeared  under  the  blows  of 
human  violence,  and  even  Titus  could  not  save  this 
one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world. 

Why  was  the  Temple  in  such  danger?  Was  not 
the  gate  called  Beautiful?  Were  not  the  services 
ornate?  All  this  was  the  fact.  But  none  the  less 
was  it  a  fact  that  there  were  people  outside  the 


MUTTERINGS  OF  PERSECUTION  93 

Temple  who  would  not  or  could  not  enter  in.  They 
did  not  hear  the  music.  They  did  not  understand 
the  law.  They  did  not  share  in  the  finance.  They 
did  not  admire  the  embroidered  seraphim  or  cheru- 
bim. At  the  brazen  altar,  they  confessed  no  sin 
and  received  no  pardon.  At  the  mighty  laver,  their 
bodies  were  unwashed,  their  habits  uncleansed.  No 
prayers  of  theirs  suggested  incense.  They  found  in 
the  shew-bread  no  symbol  of  God's  care.  His  seven 
golden  candlesticks  illuminated  no  darkened  re- 
cesses of  their  prejudiced  minds.  Truly  the  veil  of 
the  most  holy  of  holy  places  had  been  rent  in  twain, 
but  they  knew  not  that  they  might  freely  enter;  the 
priests  had  not  torn  the  veil,  but  God;  it  was  torn 
from  top  to  bottom ;  and  the  priests  disapproved. 
Hence  the  ark  remained  a  mystery.  People  could 
not  perceive  in  the  very  being  of  God,  the  Law  of 
the  Fatherhood,  the  Blossoming  Rod  of  the  Spirit's 
authority,  and  the  ever  available  Manna,  coming- 
down  from  heaven,  which  revealed  the  Broken 
Body  of  Christ. 

Of  the  men  who  were  thus  excluded  from  the 
Temple,  two  supreme  examples  emerge  into  his- 
tory. Both  were  crippled  from  birth,  but  the  one 
was  a  cripple  in  body,  while  the  other  was  crippled 
in  mind.  The  first  was  met  by  Peter;  the  second 
by  Paul.  Both  were  led  within  the  barriers.  Both 
were  thus  rescued  from  those  classes  in  the  Empire 
whence  spring  revolts  and  anarchy.  Yet,  in  both 
cases,  society  persecuted  the  deliverers  for  the  good 
deed  thus  done.  Peter  was  haled  before  the  au- 
thorities; so  was  Paul;  and  Paul's  arrest  culminated 
in  his  death.  To  Trophimus,  the  Ephesian,  he  had 
said,  "Why  bow  down  to  Diana?     Why  worship 


94  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

the  goddess  of  plenty,  of  success,  of  selfish  and  lux- 
urious living?  I  will  lead  you  into  the  true  temple 
of  the  eternal."  But  the  Jews  would  not  obey  that 
ideal  of  God's  fatherhood  which  suggests  that  men 
are  brothers.  All  the  fury  of  racial  antagonism, 
never  more  apparent  than  among  nations  of  our 
time,  swept  Paul  into  prison.  And  from  that  day 
to  this  the  barriers  between  Jew  and  Gentile  have 
remained  mitigated  indeed,  but  still  virtually  im- 
passable. 

The  other  man  is  nameless  and  therefore  uni- 
versal. While  he  lay  outside  the  door  stood  open. 
The  reason  was  not  his  poverty,  for  having  no  silver 
and  gold,  Peter  and  John  could  none  the  less  enter 
the  Temple.  And  the  alms  which  the  man  received 
were  no  compensation  for  his  helplessness.  He  lay 
there,  the  tolerated  parasite  on  the  community. 
Whether  received  as  dividends  or  as  benevolence, 
his  maintenance  was  a  degradation,  because  he  did 
not  earn  it.  It  was  not  his  fault  that,  born  a  crip- 
ple, he  had  reached  the  fatal  age  of  forty.  But  it 
was  his  fault  that  as  a  man  of  forty  with  weak 
ankles,  he  made  no  eflFort  to  use  brain  and  wrists 
which  were  good  for  another  thirty  years.  Peter 
did  not  look  at  his  ankles  nor  grip  his  feet.  He 
gazed  on  the  man's  face — the  divine  part  of  him — 
and  gripped  his  hand — which  was  strong  as  ever. 
In  an  instant  it  was  clear  that  no  man,  however  old 
and  weak,  is  entirely  useless.  Self-knowledge — of 
the  new  strength — led  to  self-reverence, — he  rose 
up — and  self-control, — he  could  walk  and  leap  and 
praise  God — anything  but  stagger  and  stumble. 
He  could  go  into  the  Temple.  Wounded  in  the 
war  of  life,  he  found  a  vocation. 


MUTTERINGS  OF  PERSECUTION  95 

Of  course,  the  authorities  did  not  like  it.  Why 
had  they  never  noticed  the  lame  man?  What  would 
happen  if  public  opinion  was  concentrated  not  on 
high  priests  and  rabbis,  but  upon  the  poor  and  af- 
flicted? As  the  Virgin  Mary  had  prophesied  it 
would  raise  the  beggar  from  his  dunghill  and  put 
down  princes  from  their  thrones. 

And  this  thing  happened  at  the  hour  of  prayer — 
the  ninth  hour — the  very  moment  when  Christ  died, 
and  dawn  succeeded  the  darkness  of  His  sufferings. 
Christ's  resurrection  was  proved,  not  by  historic  ar- 
gument merely,  not  by  the  empty  tomb,  but  by  His 
present  power — which,  as  the  rabbis  declared,  "  We 
cannot  deny."  There  were  kindly  friends  who 
could  and  did  carry  the  cripple  daily  to  the  Gate 
Beautiful.  All  honour  to  them.  They  were  the 
founders  of  what,  in  modern  language,  we  call  So- 
cial Reform.  But  their  service,  in  itself,  was  not 
enough.  When  all  that  they  could  devise  had  been 
accomplished,  the  cripple  still  lay  outside  the  region 
of  personal  happiness.  Silver  and  gold  could  not 
buy  it.  It  was  something  beyond  the  reach  of  po- 
litical economy.  It  lay  within  the  sole  prerogative 
of  God  Himself. 

For  this  charter  of  happiness  had  to  be  counter- 
signed by  the  one  name,  Jesus  Christ.  In  the  heal- 
ing of  this  man  we  see  all  that  the  kindest  and  best 
of  men  can  do  for  one  another,  followed  by  just  that 
something  more  which  is  the  very  essence  of  the 
poet's  insight — the  painter's  insight  into  the  human 
drama.  That  something  more  is  the  gift  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  alone.  No  system,  however  benevolent, 
can  supply  it.  And,  in  such  revelations  of  His  power, 
"  Jesus  of  Nazareth,"  as  Peter  called  Him  to  begin 


96  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

with,  is  glorified,  until  He  is  recognized  as  Son  of 
the  God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob, — the 
Holy  One — the  Prince  of  Life  and  all  that  life 
means.  The  Jews  admitted  the  good  deed  but 
denied  the  divinity  behind  it.  They  wanted  Chris- 
tianity; they  rejected  Christ.  Their  quarrel  with 
Peter  was  essentially  the  same  as  the  quarrel  be- 
tween Morality  and  Salvation,  between  Ethics  and 
the  Gospel.  Their's  was  the  anger  of  men  who  de- 
sire Another's  good  without  confessing  their  own 
evil. 


XII 
THE  JUDGMENTS   OF  THE   SPIRIT 

IT  was  from  the  Jews  and  their  old  books  that 
most  of  us  learned  to  look  at  nature  as  a  gar- 
ment of  God  and  His  enemy,  the  Devil.  Sun,  moon 
and  stars,  which  He  ordained, — rivers  and  flowers 
and  even  beasts — teach  us  what  He  is  and  what 
thoughts  He  thinks.  Among  these  symbols,  the 
terrors  of  nature  are  included,  and  the  most  sudden 
of  these  is  lightning.  Pentecost  was  the  warm  sum- 
mer of  the  Church,  when  from  a  cloudless  sky  shone 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  with  healing  in  His 
wings;  it  thus  was  inevitable  that  with  such  spir- 
itual electricity,  a  thunder-storm  should  break  the 
spell  and  relieve  the  abnormal  strain.  Two  persons 
were  killed — the  man,  Ananias,  and  his  wife, 
Sapphira. 

Their  tragedy  does  not  stand  alone.  It  is  our 
own  custom  to  declare  that,  in  a  certain  event,  we 
should  have  *'  died  of  shame."  What  goes  on  in 
the  mind  has  turned  people's  hair  in  a  week  or  two 
from  black  to  white.  The  kind  of  stroke  which  fell 
on  Ananias  and  Sapphira  proved  to  be  almost  as 
fatal  to  Paul,  when  he  fell  nearly  dead  and  wholly 
blinded,  on  the  road  to  Damascus.  His  exceeding 
madness,  the  rage  which  consumed  him,  the  hatred 
that  impelled  his  pitiless  march  under  a  tropical 

97 


98  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

sun  at  the  zenith  of  midday,  set  his  entire  being 
under  a  strain  which  snapped  some  vital  element 
and  laid  him,  helpless,  in  the  dust.  Resistance  to 
the  Holy  Spirit  sets  up  a  tension  between  man  and 
^God  of  which  the  effects  are  incalculable. 

These  rules  are  as  clear  as  dynamics.  Herod,  the 
king,  was  in  poor  health.  What  he  needed  was 
quiet.  Any  doctor  would  have  said  that  he  must 
not  be  disturbed.  His  life  depended  on  the  peace  of 
God.  But  he  stretched  forth  his  hands  to  persecute 
and  killed  the  apostle  James.  He  proceeded  to  im- 
prison the  apostle  Peter.  The  two  men  who  could 
have  helped  him  most  were  thus  treated  as  enemies. 
His  fury  grew  hotter  until  it  included  the  people  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon, — boys  and  girls  and  mothers  and 
humble  workers,  who  had  done  no  harm  to  the 
king.  They  also  wanted  peace,  merely  to  be  left 
alone,  because  the  king's  anger  stopped  them  get- 
ting food,  and  they  secured  peace  by  making  Blas- 
tus,  the  king's  chamberlain,  their  friend.  I  do  not 
know  by  what  arts  or  offers  they  won  over  Blastus, 
but  Herod,  his  irritation  soothed,  fell  victim  to  a 
new  restlessness.  He  must  needs  choose  a  day  to 
wear  his  royal  apparel,  to  sit  upon  his  throne,  and 
make  a  speech  to  the  multitude.  His  pride  pro- 
voked him  to  that  fatal  effort.  As  his  words  rang 
out,  presumably  over  the  vast  theatre,  they  shouted, 
*'  It  is  the  voice  of  a  god  and  not  of  a  man."  Once 
more  the  electric  tension  culminated  in  disaster. 
Whatever  weakness  had  been  Herod's,  the  disease 
declared  itself  in  all  its  loathsome  reality,  and  his 
claim  to  God's  glory  ended  in  consumption  by 
worms. 

Ananias  and  Sapphira  were  situated  in  comfort- 


THE  JUDGMENTS  OF  THE  SPIRIT        99 

able  circumstances.  They  belong  to  what  we  call 
the  bourgeoisie  and  they  discussed  together  what 
should  be  their  attitude  towards  the  economic 
movement  which  was  sweeping  over  the  Christian 
community.  They  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  if 
they  gave  away  a  part  of  their  fortune  they  could 
safely  keep  the  rest.  Their  doctrine  was  identical 
with  the  proposals  for  "  ransom  "  by  which,  in  the 
eighties,  Joseph  Chamberlain  hoped  to  solve  the 
difficulties  between  those  who  want  and  those  who 
have.  Ananias  and  Sapphira  were  fighting,  as 
Joseph  Chamberlain  fought,  for  absolute  owner- 
ship. Given  such  absolute  ownership  over  what 
was  left,  they  were  ready  to  part  with  much. 

No  such  compromise  could  last.  If  any  property 
belonged  to  God,  then  God  owned  all  property,  and, 
be  he  rich  or  poor,  man  is  God's  trustee.  About  the 
private  affairs  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  rumours 
began  to  gather,  as  clouds  develop  on  a  sultry  after- 
noon. They  claimed  a  certain  reputation,  but  some- 
how, compared  with  others,  they  had  not  paid  the 
price.  They  had  been  generous,  but  they  were  not 
poor.  They  had  given  all,  but  there  was  a  good 
deal  left. 

The  other  Christians  would  not  have  minded  if 
Ananias  and  Sapphira  had  frankly  disclosed  their 
financial  position.  What  aroused  criticism  was  the 
deception  which  they  practised  in  their  accounts — 
the  concealed  items,  the  clever  bookkeeping,  the 
disputable  valuations.  Controversy  arose.  It  is 
clear,  I  think,  that  hard  words  were  used  on  both 
sides,  and,  to  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  it  must  have 
seemed  to  be  nobody's  business  but  their  own. 
When  Peter  heard  of  it,  however,  he  realized  at 


100     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

once  that  the  entire  cause  for  which  Christ  died  was 
at  stake.  If  the  finances  of  Christ's  followers  were 
suspected,  untold  prejudice  would  arise  against  His 
Gospel.  If  Christ  had  not  mastered  the  purse,  He 
assuredly  had  yet  to  conquer  the  soul. 

This  was  the  setting  of  the  dramatic  scenes  which 
followed.  The  disciples  were  in  full  assembly.  Yet 
there  was  no  hubbub  or  disturbance.  Feeling  ran 
high,  but  the  affair  was  left  to  Peter.  Having  given 
up  all  himself  to  serve  Christ,  he  had  a  right  to  deal 
with  this  matter.  We  read  that  he  was  filled  with 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  any  man,  thus  filled,  is  irresist- 
ible. In  the  very  intensity  of  his  restrained  indig- 
nation, in  the  judicial  lucidity  of  his  questions,  es- 
pecially to  Sapphira,  we  see  how  formidable  this 
man,  once  so  weak  and  uncertain,  had  become. 

Ananias  entered.  His  was  an  honoured  name, 
borne  by  the  most  illustrious  in  the  land,  including 
the  High  Priest  himself.  Hananiah,  as  the  Hebrews 
spelled  it,  meant  ''The  Lord  is  gracious,"  and  we  can 
easily  imagine  why  the  mothers  of  Israel  chose  this 
name  for  the  delicate  and  cherished  babes  who  lay 
on  their  breast.  But  the  graciousness  of  the  Lord 
means  that  the  Lord  is  also  Truth.  The  tenderest- 
hearted  of  all  prophets  was  Jeremiah,  yet  even  he, 
when  confronted  by  another  Ananias,  who  prophe- 
sied an  early  breaking  of  the  Babylonian  yoke,  had 
to  reply,  "  The  Lord  hath  not  sent  thee,  but  thou 
makest  this  people  to  trust  in  a  lie."  That  earlier 
Ananias  was  "  cast  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth," 
because  he  "taught  rebellion  " — not  against  Baby- 
lon, but — "  against  the  Lord  " — against  the  strict 
probity  of  God.  "  Thou  shalt  die,"  said  Jeremiah, 
and  Ananias,  the  first,  did  die  the  same  year,  the 


THE  JUDGMENTS  OF  THE  SPIRIT      101 

seventh  month.  It  was  the  end  of  his  easy  and  un- 
convincing ministry.  There  was  but  one  step  from 
Ananias,  the  false  prophet,  to  Ananias,  the  false 
priest.  The  one  spoke  untrue  things.  The  other 
smote  on  the  mouth  Him  who  spoke  true  things. 
So  fatally  unpopular  is  reality. 

Thus  entered  Ananias,  not  as  a  prophet,  not  as 
a  priest,  but  as  a  certain  average  ordinary  man.  He 
was  entirely  unconscious  of  danger.  He  expected 
his  usual  welcome.  He  was  the  man  in  the  golden 
mask,  the  hypocrite,  and  on  the  instant  he  met  the 
man  whose  mask  had  been  torn  aside  by  Christ. 
Peter  was  simply  sincere.  He  looked  straight  at 
the  heart  of  the  other  and  found  there  Satan — the 
enemy — filling  the  heart,  as  Peter's  heart  was  filled 
with  the  Spirit.  The  battle  was  immediate.  The 
two  mightiest  forces  of  the  universe  met  in  single 
combat  and  the  soul  of  Ananias  was  set  free.  But 
his  body  fell  under  the  blow.  No  physical  tissue 
could  survive  the  wrench  and  wrestle. 

To  those  who  watched  the  event,  one  word  went 
home.  It  had  seemed  to  them,  perhaps,  that  theirs 
was  the  grievance  involved  in  the  deception  of 
Ananias.  It  was  against  the  other  disciples  that 
apparently  he  had  offended.  It  was  they  who  had 
the  obvious  right  to  take  him  to  task.  Yet  Peter 
put  the  case  far  otherwise.  Against  the  Holy  Spirit 
and  Him  alone,  said  he,  was  this  sin  committed. 
Among  those  for  whom  Christ  died,  there  is,  from 
man  to  man,  no  injury  beyond  human  forgiveness, 
since  He,  as  Man,  forgave  our  injury  to  Him.  But, 
while  thus  forgiving  such  injuries,  we  have  also  the 
right  to  say  that  whatever  wrong  is  done  against  us 
or  anybody    else,   is   a  wrong   against   God,   and 


102     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

against  God  not  man  is  done  any  wrong  of  which 
we  are  ourselves  the  author.  This  concentration 
of  the  issue  robbed  the  aggrieved  Christians  of  their 
locus  standi.  It  made  them  reaHze  that  their  feel- 
ings were  a  very  subordinate  factor  in  the  affair. 
So  near  were  they  drawn  to  God  as  an  actual  per- 
son that  their  hearts  were  filled  with  great  fear. 

In  the  literature,  even  of  the  Bible,  there  are  few 
more  dram.atic  and  musical  sentences  than  this — 
And  the  young  men  arose,  wound  him  up,  and  cat'- 
ried  him  out  and  buried  him.  It  was  a  few  grave 
bars  from  the  funeral  march  of  the  merely  respect- 
able in  Christianity.  Through  every  century  we 
see  one  generation  after  another  arising,  with  the 
fear  of  God  on  their  faces,  and  winding  the  corpse 
of  the  unrealities  of  religion  in  those  prejudices 
which  cling  only  to  the  dead,  and  carrying  away 
the  dead  things  from  the  sight  of  the  living,  and 
burying  them  in  the  oblivion  which  engulfs  the 
shams  and  pretensions  of  a  world  yet  to  be  won  for 
truth.  So  have  disappeared  estimable  persons  and 
venerable  societies.  The  young  men  have  stepped 
in  and  what  is  other  than  eternal  has  vanished. 

While  Ananias  was  to  be  engaged  in  Church  mat- 
ters, his  wife  had  her  other  duties,  but  in  three 
hours  she  was  to  call  for  him  and  she  kept  the  ap- 
pointment. Among  the  disciples,  Sapphira  is,  per- 
haps, the  most  forlorn  and  pathetic  figure.  She  was 
her  husband's  jewel,  brilliant  in  name,  in  beauty 
and  in  fortune,  yet  utterly  devoted  to  the  man  who 
had  fallen.  Not  having  heard  the  news,  she  came 
in,  with  an  inquiry  on  her  lips.  Peter's  first  remark 
to  her  was  an  answer. 

The  spectacle  of  this  woman, — a  happy  and  con- 


THE  JUDGMENTS  OF  THE  SPIRIT      103 

tented  wife  as  she  thought  herself,  transformed 
that  day  into  a  discredited  widow — gave  pause  even 
to  the  most  impetuous  of  apostles.  What  had  been 
indignation  in  Peter  turned  to  pity,  as  he  said, 
'*  Tell  me  " — how  courteous  the  tone — "  tell  me, 
did  you  sell  the  land  for  so  much?"  Brought  to 
bay  and  unabashed  by  the  terrible  silence  of  those 
who  looked  on  her  from  every  side,  Sapphira  de- 
clared— ''  Yes — it  was  so  much."  Then  and  then 
only  did  Peter  ask  her  why  she  had  conspired  with 
her  husband  to  tempt  the  Holy  Ghost.  Her  face,  I 
think,  must  have  paled.  Over  her  must  have  fallen 
the  shadow  of  immediate  death.  For  Peter  added, 
what  he  had  not  said  to  Ananias,  a  pronouncement 
of  doom. 

**  Look!  "  he  cried,  "  the  feet  of  them  which  have 
buried  thy  husband  are  at  the  door  and  shall  carry 
thee  out."  She  fell  at  his  feet  straightway;  she 
yielded  up  her  spirit;  in  her  person  the  moral  obli- 
gation of  all  women  was  proved  to  be  not  less  than 
the  moral  obligation  of  all  men.  She  was  buried 
by  her  husband, — united  in  life,  undivided  by  death, 
— one  in  spirit  as  one  in  flesh — their  end  the  most 
poignant,  the  most  deplorable  of  all  written  ro- 
mances. 


XIII 
THE  SHORT  LIFE  OF  STEPHEN 

THE  early  Church  was  only  a  few  weeks  old 
when  the  apostles  were  faced  by  the  first  of 
many  minor  worries.  The  momentous  struggle  be- 
tween Christians  of  Jewish  and  Gentile  origin  be- 
gan, not  in  theology  or  creed,  but  in  the  petty  sus- 
picions of  the  ordinary  human  heart.  The  Grecian 
widows  declared  that  the  Jewish  widows  were 
favoured  in  the  distribution  of  ecclesiastical  benevo- 
lence and,  in  a  moment,  the  lofty  ideals  of  love  and 
joy  and  power,  proclaimed  by  Peter  and  his  friends, 
fell  to  the  sordid  level  of  dollars  and  shillings.  It 
was  nobody's  fault.  The  number  of  disciples  was 
greatly  increased.  Clearly  there  were  bound  to  be 
difficulties  of  organization. 

The  apostles  met  and  discussed  the  affair.  Their 
view  was  that  this  wrangling  among  women  merely 
interrupted  important  matters  like  preaching  the 
word.  Over  the  whole  business  it  is  clear  that  they 
were  not  a  little  impatient.  It  seemed  absurd  that 
men,  qualified  to  occupy  the  most  prominent  pul- 
pits, should  be  troubled  like  this  with  bank-books 
and  the  price  of  groceries.  They  proposed  there- 
fore that  their  own  pastorate  should  be  entirely  re- 
lieved of  these  domestic  distractions.  A  clergyman 
and  minister  of  the  Gospel  must  be  a  man  removed 
from  the  ills  that  afflict  the  rest  of  us.     Deacons 

104 


THE  SHORT  LIFE  OF  STEPHEN        105 

must  be  appointed  who  will  act  as  a  kind  of  body- 
guard for  the  spiritual  recluse.  It  is  the  theory  on 
which  Buddhists  have  hidden  away  the  Dalai-Lama 
of  Tibet.  In  monastic  institutions  and  universities 
you  find  the  same  principle  adopted.  And  some  of 
our  greatest  preachers  have  lived  quiet  and  remote 
from  the  Hfe  around  them.  It  is  so  convenient  to 
delegate  routine  and  perplexity. 

No  man  enjoyed  theology  more  than  Paul  did,  or 
had  a  better  right  to  the  use  of  a  study.  But  Paul, 
like  Christ,  sacrificed  leisure  and  his  splendour  of 
intellect  to  the  humdrum  duty  of  going  about  doing 
good.  Paul  never  made  Peter's  mistake  of  thinking 
that  humble  folk  and  humble  tasks  are  common  or 
unclean.  He  knew  something  of  the  eternal  want  of 
pence  which  afflicts  genius.  But  when  they  said  of 
him  that  he  was  preaching  for  money  he  took  up  his 
trade  again  and  so  gloried  in  Christ's  ''  form  of  a 
servant."  When  the  Corinthians  got  into  troubles 
of  various  kinds  Paul  did  not  avoid  the  situation, 
but  went  into  it  thoroughly,  even  with  tears,  and 
drew  out  of  each  squalid  detail  a  rich  disclosure  of 
the  Christ-mind.  If  these  widows  had  been  re- 
ceived by  the  apostles  and  their  circumstances  ex- 
amined, a  common  ground  for  Jew  and  Gentile 
might  have  been  discovered  in  the  policy  of  dealing 
with  the  economic  problem  which  Hes  outside  eccle- 
siastical dispute.  A  good  feeling  might  have  been 
promoted  which  would  have  forestalled  the  crises 
that  soon  arose  over  circumcision  and  other  He- 
brew ritual.  The  daily  ministering  or  service  was 
thus  as  vital  to  the  progress  of  the  Church  as  any 
discussions  of  doctrine  which  were  to  occupy  so 
many  minds.     And  it  was  the  weapon  of  financial 


106     THE  CHUKCH  WE  FOEGET 

comradeship  that  Paul  used  later  in  his  final  at- 
tempt to  unite  European  and  Judean  Christianity. 

Those  were  days  when  the  Church  was  a  perfect 
democracy.  Every  man  and  every  woman  was 
summoned  to  the  mass  meeting  where  the  issue 
that  had  arisen  must  be  decided.  The  assembly 
reminds  one  of  those  "  congregations "  which 
Moses  and  Aaron  and  Joshua  addressed.  The  utter 
candour  of  the  apostles — the  unreserved  confidence 
with  which  they  left  the  choice  of  deacons  to  a  com- 
pany that  was  admittedly  divided  by  racial  and  re- 
ligious origin — was  rewarded  by  the  unanimous  se- 
lection of  seven  suitable  men,  of  whom,  however, 
none  was  Gentile,  though  Nicolas,  the  last  to  be 
named,  was  a  proselyte  of  Antioch.  Matthias,  the 
twelfth  apostle,  had  been  chosen,  as  we  have  seen, 
by  lot,  but  there  was  no  need  now  to  employ  a 
game  of  chance.  Voting  was  superseded  by  con- 
sent— by  a  thinking  together  of  all  good  men — and 
notable  was  the  spread  of  the  Christian  movement. 
The  plan  whereby  the  disciples  were  treated  as  citi- 
zens of  a  spiritual  republic,  rather  than  as  subjects 
of  a  spiritual  empire,  was  abundantly  vindicated  by 
results.  The  town's  meeting,  the  referendum, 
women's  suffrage, — all  these  foundation  stones  of 
the  modern  commonwealth  were  laid  securely  in 
the  charter  of  the  Church. 

Yet  one  can  detect  in  the  narrative  the  tiny  seeds 
of  those  very  different  upgrowths  of  which  the  most 
impressive  is  the  Roman  hierarchy.  The  multitude 
selected  deacons,  but  actual  appointment  lay  with 
the  apostles.  The  apostolic  claim  was  made  visible 
to  all  men  by  the  laying  on  of  hands.  I  can  imagine 
no  more  exquisite  symbol.     Every  child,  however 


THE  SHORT  LIFE  OF  STEPHEN        107 

young,  who  comes  to  Christ,  is  thus  ordained  as  His 
disciple.  Paul  thus  reminded  Timothy  that,  even  as 
bishop,  he  also  must  ever  regard  himself  as  a  son  of 
the  faith.  As  the  Holy  Communion  taught  the 
brotherhood  of  men,  so  did  the  laying  on  of  hands 
express  the  fatherhood  of  God,  who,  knowing  their 
frame,  remembers  that  even  popes,  even  prelates, 
are,  after  all,  but  dust. 

Neither  on  the  apostles  nor  on  the  Seventy  Evan- 
gelists did  Christ  lay  His  hands.  So  deep  was  His 
love  that  He  emphasized  friendship  and  coopera- 
tion rather  than  mastery  and  subservience.  In  con- 
sidering the  ceremony,  we  must  bear  in  mind  also 
that  it  was  not  a  new  ritual,  but  a  severe  curtail- 
ment of  the  old.  On  the  minds  of  many  priests, 
the  Saviour's  personal  teaching — so  we  are  told  in 
the  fourth  Gospel — had  made  a  lasting  impression, 
and  these  men,  silent  during  His  crucifixion,  were 
joining  the  Church  in  large  numbers.  They  lived 
centuries  before  books  were  printed.  They  saw 
few  pictures  and  no  photographs.  Elaborate  cere- 
monies were  their  language — the  act  seen  by  the 
eye  supplemented  the  word  which  only  enters  the 
ear.  In  the  direction  of  simplicity,  therefore,  the 
apostles,  by  merely  retaining  one  simple  rite,  went 
a  long  way,  and  the  only  question  is  whether,  like 
the  author  who  wrote  the  Hebrews,  they  should 
have  avoided  all  compromise  and  found  in  the  Spirit 
everything  which  had  been  foreshadowed  in  ancient 
type.  It  is  enough,  perhaps,  to  remark  that  one 
charge  against  Stephen  was  his  alleged  indifference 
to  ancient  custom. 

Again,  the  need  for  deacons  showed  that  apostle- 
ship  was  not  a  sufficient  organization  of  the  Church 


108     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

— laymen  also  had  to  be  enrolled  for  responsible  co- 
partnership. Women  were  overlooked,  but  not  for 
long;  Philip,  the  deacon,  had  a  house  at  Csesarea 
and  all  his  four  daughters  prophesied.  Events  were 
showing  that  no  structure  devised  by  man  could 
contain  Him  Whose  Being  overflowed  the  heaven  of 
heavens.  And,  in  a  few  weeks,  two  of  the  seven 
deacons,  appointed  to  serve  tables,  far  outshone  in 
their  witness  the  appointing  apostles.  Philip  was 
the  pioneer  of  foreign  missions  in  whose  footsteps 
Peter  followed,  while  Stephen  surpassed  Peter's 
eloquence  and  anticipated  Peter's  heroic  martyr- 
dom. John  used  to  say  that  Jesus  knew  what  was 
in  man.  The  twelve  apostles  had  little  notion  what 
was  in  Stephen  and  Philip ;  and  still  less  of  what  was 
to  be  revealed  through  Paul. 

Of  all  the  early  Christians  Stephen  was  the  great- 
est, and  Paul,  who  was  a  party  to  his  death,  spent 
his  life  in  the  constant  endeavour  to  be  with  painful 
effort  what  Stephen  was.  About  this  man  there 
was  an  easy  and  joyous  mastery  over  his  duties,  his 
opportunities  and  his  dangers.  He  was  of  honest 
report.  He  was  full  of  the  Spirit,  and  his  spiritual 
gift  was,  in  the  first  place,  wisdom ;  secondly,  sound 
sense — which  sobriety  of  mind  controlled  him,  even 
in  his  eloquence.  He  was  the  ideal  man  of  afifairs, 
the  business  man,  the  artisan,  who  knows  the  world 
by  experience  and  is  respected  therein.  He  did  not 
set  out  to  perform  miracles  of  helpfulness;  as  we 
read  of  them,  we  are  not  conscious  that  he  made  an 
effort.  His  power,  as  it  were,  could  not  help  acting. 
It  was  a  spontaneous  force.    In  a  word  it  was  God. 

As  the  apostles  summed  up  the  historic  or  eye- 
witness to  Christ,  so  Stephen  summed  up  the  wit- 


THE  SHORT  LIFE  OF  STEPHEN        109 

ness  of  men  who  have  never  seen  Him.  He  was  the 
first  of  the  moderns.  Hence  his  interesting  col- 
lision, not  with  the  priests  at  Jerusalem,  who  were 
too  secure  in  their  orthodoxy  to  realize  the  chal- 
lenge of  his  world-wide  message,  but  with  the 
synagogues  of  the  provinces,  Cyrene  and  Alexan- 
dria in  Africa,  and  Cilicia,  and  Asia,  where  the  an- 
cient faith  was  fighting  for  a  distinctive  existence 
amid  oceans  of  Paganism.  Cilicia  was  where  Paul 
came  from.  To  that  angered  synagogue  of  Cilician 
residents  in  Jerusalern  he  belonged.  And  to  him  as 
to  the  Libertines,  or  freed  slaves,  a  gospel  that  ap- 
pealed to  every  class  and  every  creed  opened  the 
floodgates.    It  was  the  end  of  all  things. 

In  dispute  or  argument  Stephen  was  led,  perhaps 
without  knowing  it,  along  a  path  already  trodden 
by  Christ.  He  spoke  of  the  larger  Temple,  of  the 
deeper  law,  of  the  nobler  custom,  and  he  was  ac- 
cused of  blasphemy.  Jerusalem,  like  Ephesus,  flour- 
ished on  a  religious  monopoly — on  having  that  to 
give  which  men  could  not  obtain  elsewhere — and 
Stephen  wanted  human  happiness  to  be  as  free  as 
the  air  we  breathe.  He  and  his  critics  both  realized 
that  whatever  limited  the  love  of  God  must  be  des- 
troyed. That  love  is  "  broader  than  the  measures 
of  man's  mind,"  and  man's  mind,  therefore,  unas- 
sisted by  the  Spirit,  could  not  comprehend  Stephen's 
message.  Threatened  with  loss  of  narrower  in- 
terests, the  multitude  was  easily  stirred  against  the 
reformer.  The  priests  and  the  scribes  welcomed 
the  popular  reaction  and  Stephen  was  seized  and 
brought  before  the  council. 

Here,  indeed,  was  an  unforeseen  outcome  of  the 
quarrels  over  a  widow's  mite.    The  man  appointed 


110  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOKGET 

to  keep  accounts,  lest  Peter's  preaching  be  inter- 
rupted, stood  at  the  bar  of  Parliament,  alone,  with- 
out one  apostle  to  advise  him,  assisted  only  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  within  him.  Before  his  aspect,  the 
tumult  ceased,  for  as  they  looked  on  him,  they  were 
fascinated  by  his  face  as  of  an  angel — a  messenger 
— some  one  who  had  something  to  say — something 
that  must  be  heard.  It  was  the  eagerness  of  Phei- 
dippides,  as  he  hurried  off  with  his  news  of  victory, 
and,  hurrying,  fell  dead  when  he  had  spoken. 

Of  himself,  Stephen  was  unconscious.  To  that 
first  person  singular,  he  did  not  once  refer.  What 
concerned  him  was  the  situation, — the  fate  of  these 
people  around  him,  not  his  own — and  he  analyzed 
that  situation  with  the  calm  impartiality  of  a  scien- 
tific historian.  At  first  reading,  his  speech  seems 
merely  to  recapitulate  the  Old  Testament,  and  one 
might  suggest  that  such  a  defense  by  a  prisoner, 
arrested  on  the  capital  charge,  is  unparalleled  in  its 
detachment.  But  there  is  in  this  narrative  a  subtle 
emphasis  which  brings  out  those  things  that  make  or 
mar  the  happiness  of  men  and  nations.  Stephen  told 
how,  wherever  the  Israelites  lived  and  wandered, 
whether  in  Charran,  or  Egypt,  or  Canaan,  or  Mid- 
ian,  the  God  of  glory, — the  God  who  shows  Him- 
self— was  watching  them  and  waiting  for  their 
obedience.  Abraham  and  Moses  and  Joseph  and 
Christ  were  figures  in  one  drama,  acted  in  many 
centuries,  in  which  what  mattered  was  not  so  much 
the  environment  of  the  people, — the  famines  and 
the  bondage  and  the  oppression  which  they  suffered 
— as  their  own  heart  and  character — what  they 
worshipped,  be  it  God,  be  it  an  idol — the  treatment 
by  that  nation  of  its  own  best  men.     What  prophets 


THE  SHORT  LIFE  OF  STEPHEN        111 

have  been  slain?  What  Spirit  has  been  resisted? 
How  stiff  is  the  neck  and  is  the  heart  uncircum- 
cised?  All  this  was  gathered  from  the  Jewish 
Scriptures  themselves  and  it  proved  that  nations, 
like  men,  are  a  duality — an  opposition  of  good  to 
evil — which  meant  that  in  slaying  Jesus  Christ  the 
Jews  were  acting  according  to  their  boasted  hered- 
ity. It  was  no  new  saying  that  God  dwells  not  in 
temples  made  with  hands.  Isaiah  himself  declared 
that  heaven  is  God's  throne  and  earth  His  foot- 
stool. 

Up  to  this  point  the  argument  was  interesting. 
People  will  always  admire  an  academic  sermon 
which  leaves  themselves  untouched.  But  there 
came  a  point  where  Stephen  had  to  bring  his  story 
up  to  date.  He  made  no  claim  for  Our  Lord  except 
this — that  He  was  the  Just  One — that  He  was  in- 
carnate innocence — that  as  a  blameless  Man,  He 
had  been  betrayed  and  murdered.  And  this  accu- 
sation, based  deliberately  on  Our  Saviour's  human- 
ity, avoiding  deliberately  His  divinity,  drove  them 
to  a  madness  which  led  them  to  gnash  their  teeth 
on  him.    On  their  faces  lay  their  verdict. 

Then  and  then  only  did  Stephen  proceed  from 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  our  Brother  and  Friend,  to 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  standing  at  the  right  hand  of 
God.  What  had  been  history  became  experience, — 
what  had  been  memory  passed  into  vision — what 
had  been  faith  became  sight.  All  around  were  the 
evidences  of  Christ  defeated.  Straight  above  was 
the  spectacle  of  Christ  triumphant.  Jesus  stand- 
ing— not  then  seated — but  in  authoritative  and  alert 
activity — standing  because  Stephen  had  to  stand, — 
he  could  do  no  other. 


112     THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

The  gnashing  of  teeth  was  a  suppression  of 
anger;  their  loud  cry  broke  the  last  restraints  of 
wickedness.  These  men  were  not  deaf.  They  had 
listened  and  heard.  But  they  dared  not  hear  more. 
They  stopped  their  ears.  They  rushed  upon 
Stephen.  They  did  not  risk  one  moment  of  delay. 
They  might  be  Libertines,  or  Cyrenians,  or  Alex- 
andrians, or  Cicilians,  or  Asians.  They  might  be 
people,  elders  or  scribes.  But  as  adversaries  of 
Christ,  they  were  as  completely  in  accord  as  were 
the  disciples  themselves.  The  unity  of  evil  was  con- 
centrating against  the  unity  of  good. 

They  hurled  Stephen  out  of  the  city.  In 
their  society — their  clubs — their  theatres — their 
churches,  there  was  to  be  henceforth  no  direct  wit- 
ness to  the  Redeemer.  Then,  they  used  against 
Stephen  new  arguments, — namely  stones;  the  un- 
changing material  against  the  developing  spiritual; 
the  hard  and  unsatisfying  and  lifeless  rock  against 
the  living  word,  the  food  of  the  soul.  In  their  heat 
they  threw  aside  their  clothes.  All  those  phylac- 
teries and  broadened  borders  which  recalled  the 
traditions  of  their  race  were  thrown  on  the  ground 
and  the  Jew  emerged  as,  after  all,  a  man  of  like  pas- 
sions with  the  rest  of  us.  And  a  youth,  named 
Saul,  thought  sincerely  that  he  could  look  after  the 
discarded  robes  of  their  respectability  and  return 
them,  unsoiled  by  a  stain. 

Stephen  did  not  ward  off  one  missile.  He  knelt 
on  that  same  earth.  He  was  the  only  man  there 
who  knelt — the  only  man  there  who  prayed.  And 
his  prayer  was,  in  efifect,  the  last  of  Christ's  seven 
words  on  the  Cross — Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit. 

The  hail  of  human  hate  continued,  when — as  it 


THE  SHORT  LIFE  OF  STEPHEN        113 

seems — Stephen  remembered  the  first  of  Christ's 
words,  and  in  haste,  as  it  were,  lest  his  final  duty  be 
left  undone,  he  cried  loudly,  "  Lord,  lay  not  this  sin 
to  their  charge,"— and  only  when  he  had  said  this, 
only  when  he  had  prayed  for  his  enemies  and  perse- 
cutors, did  he  fall  asleep,  like  a  child,  when  the 
child's  vesper  is  said  or  sung  at  a  mother's  knee. 

So  ended  the  martyrdom  of  Stephen.  Great  as 
this  act  was,  supremely  great,  it  was  less,  infinitely 
less,  than  the  Cross  of  Christ.  Of  the  seven  words 
uttered  by  the  Saviour,  two  only  were  repeated  by 
His  servant.  And  those  were  the  two  words  which 
were  spoken,  the  one  before  and  the  other  after,  the 
mystical  darkness  that  symbolized  the  atonement 
for  sin. 


XIV 

THE   PREACHINGS   OF   PHILIP 

WITH  the  death  of  Stephen  ended  the  revival 
at  Jerusalem.  Where  there  had  been  great 
power  and  great  grace  and  great  fear  of  the  Lord, 
we  now  read  of  great  persecution  and  great  lamen- 
tation. Devout  men,  sorrowing  as  those  who  have 
no  hope,  thought  chiefly  of  Stephen's  burial  and  of 
a  sepulchre  in  Jerusalem  which  could  never  again 
be  empty.  For  the  first  time  since  Pentecost  the 
dynamic  Church  paused,  became  static,  engraved  its 
virtues  on  a  tombstone,  yearned  for  elaborate  mau- 
soleums, carven  images  for  the  departed,  even  relics 
and  souvenirs.  There  was  no  Paul  to  tell  them,  as 
he  told  the  Thessalonians,  that  Christ  risen  would 
bring  back  Stephen,  when  He  returns.  Then,  as 
now,  the  want  of  such  comfortable  words  left  the 
disciples  to  the  enslaving  paraphernalia  of  elabo- 
rate mourning. 

With  Stephen  thus  slain,  it  was  clear  that  every 
duty  to  Jerusalem  had  been  discharged  by  the  wit- 
nesses of  Christ.  For  that  democratic  and  popular 
murder,  priests  and  people  were  consciously  respon- 
sible, and  not  one  hint  of  regret  was  afterwards 
suggested.  Anticipating  this  situation.  Our  Lord 
told  His  gospellers  that,  when  persecuted  in  one  city 
they  should  flee  to  another,  not  for  safety,  but  be- 

114 


THE  PREACHINGS  OF  PHILIP  115 

cause  every  city  has  a  right  to  learn  the  love  of  God. 
Hence,  the  good  nev^s  would  be  proclaimed,  first 
in  Jerusalem,  next  in  Samaria,  and  finally  through- 
out the  v^orld.  Manifestly,  it  v^as  unjust  that  the 
gift  of  Christ  should  be  limited  to  one  community, 
and  especially  to  a  communty  which  rejected  the 
ambassadors.  This,  however,  was  the  policy  pur- 
sued by  the  apostles.  They  were  bound  by  old  as- 
sociations. They  clung  to  Jerusalem.  Years  later 
Peter  was  still  to  be  found  there.  And  inevitably  the 
guidance  of  the  movement  passed  out  of  their 
hands.  From  this  time  onward  history  was  made 
at  Samaria  and  Antioch  and  Ephesus  and  Athens, 
while  the  influence  of  Judea  brought  little  but 
trouble  and  reaction. 

Battles  are  not  won  by  red  tape  in  a  department 
of  war,  but  by  the  soldiers  who  storm  the  enemy's 
trenches.  There  is  no  flame  in  a  prairie  fire  save 
where  it  advances.  While  Peter  was  content  with 
a  Church  centralized  in  an  ancient  but  obstinate 
city,  Saul  as  a  persecutor  knew  better.  Among  his 
Cilician  friends  he  had  listened  to  Stephen,  appar- 
ently in  silence.  His  will  was,  perhaps,  undecided 
as  he  accompanied  the  mob  which  drove  Stephen 
from  the  city.  He  cast  no  stone.  He  only  held  the 
clothes  of  others  who  did  this.  He  did  not  instigate 
cruelty,  but  only  consented  thereto.  Yet  he  was 
already  tortured  by  that  remorse  which  led  him 
later  to  confess  that  he,  a  Pharisee  of  the  Pharisees, 
was  chief  of  sinners  because  he  had  maltreated  the 
Church  of  God.  He  went  through  Jerusalem,  mak- 
ing havoc  of  the  homes  where  lived  the  disciples, 
dragging  men  and  women  into  the  streets  and  com- 
mitting them  to  the  pitiless  guardians  of  the  prisons. 


116     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

In  every  age  it  has  been  the  discomfort  at  home — 
the  oppression  of  an  old  country — some  intolerable 
social  grievance,  which  has  driven  people  forth  to 
new  lands  and  scenes.  So  it  was  here.  And  as  the 
disciples  were  scattered  abroad,  to  Antioch,  and 
even  Damascus,  so  did  Saul  hurry  forth,  realizing 
by  instinct  where  was  the  strategic  point  in  the  con- 
flict and  thus  foreshadowing  his  subsequent  career 
as  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  Right  or  wrong,  Saul 
was  ever  a  leader  of  shock  troops. 

It  was  Philip  the  deacon  who  first  went  forth  as 
foreign  missionary.  By  that  decision  he  became  in- 
evitably more  important  to  the  progress  of  Christ's 
cause  than  all  the  twelve  apostles  who  stayed  be- 
hind. In  Luke's  opinion,  Philip  became  at  once  a 
person  worth  writing  about.  He  was  a  Jew  with 
a  Greek  name,  which  means  "  lover  of  horses,"  and 
this  suggests  a  man  of  movement,  activity,  well  able 
to  seize  opportunities  when  they  arise — interested 
in  a  chariot  as  it  wends  its  way  through  the  desert 
of  Gaza.  In  due  course,  the  example  of  Philip  was 
followed  by  Barnabas  and  Silas  and  Timothy, — 
most  remarkably  by  Paul  himself.  So  far  as  we 
know,  Philip  received  not  one  word  of  approval 
from  the  ecclesiastical  authorities.  Possibly  he 
thought  that  it  was  useless  to  seek  it.  It  was  not 
until  years  later  that  foreign  missions  were  author- 
ized by  a  Christian  Church,  and  the  Church  was 
itself  a  foreign  mission,  being  situated  at  Antioch. 

Philip  was  a  born  pioneer.  He  started  on  his 
wanderings  without  any  plan,  finding  himself  first 
in  Samaria,  then  in  Gaza,  then  at  Azotus  and  finally 
at  Caesarea.  If  he  began  preaching  in  Samaria  it  was 
because  every  road  to  the  world  beyond  lay  through 


THE  PREACHINGS  OF  PHILIP  117 

that  province.  Doubtless  it  was  an  enemy  country. 
No  other  Jews  would  have  dealings  with  the  Sa- 
maritans. But  the  universal  mission  of  Christ  was 
impossible  unless  Samaria  was  first  included.  No 
campaign  of  love  was  to  be  conceived  if  prejudice 
and  revenge  lay  firmly  entrenched,  as  before,  on 
the  lines  of  communication.  If  Jesus  was  the  com- 
prehensive Man,  it  was  only  because  He  had  been 
called  a  good  Samaritan.  Since  He  had  visited  Sa- 
maria, His  disciples  must  be  ready  to  follow  in  His 
footsteps. 

On  the  bitter  quarrel  which  still  divided  the  two 
neighbouring  races,  Philip,  as  a  preacher,  said  noth- 
ing. About  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  Samaritan 
schism,  he  expressed  no  opinion.  His  solution  for 
international  differences  was  neither  war  nor  arbi- 
tration, but  Christ;  and  he  preached  Christ.  He 
told  them  what  Christ  was,  and  he  left  it  at  that.  In 
the  presence  of  Christ,  they  forgot  that  he  was  a 
Jew.  With  one  accord  they  listened  to  him,  and 
there  was  great  joy  in  a  city  where,  so  far  as  we  are 
told,  there  was  no  subsequent  reaction  against  the 
faith.  Among  states  and  societies,  a  new  standard 
was  erected.  In  the  larger  claim  of  Christ  all  pre- 
vious controversies  were  swallowed  up. 

The  secret  of  the  regeneration  of  Samaria  was, 
in  reality,  quite  simple.  The  quarrels  with  Juda- 
ism had  been  dialectical;  differences  of  mind  and 
temper.  Unity  was  established  by  dropping  argu- 
ment and  attending  to  the  poor  and  the  weak.  Be- 
tween Samaria  and  Jerusalem  there  was  no  essen- 
tial difference.  In  both  cities  there  were  men  with 
unclean  spirits — paralytics — cripples — maniacs.  Be- 
tween these  rival  cities  there  was  thus  the  indissol- 


118     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

uble  bond  of  pain  and  disease  and  sorrow.  Over 
this  or  that  matter  they  might  contend  like  children, 
but  in  suffering  they  must  needs  be  partners.  To 
the  miserable  and  the  diseased,  therefore,  Philip 
devoted  himself,  and  with  a  zeal  which  astonished 
and  a  power  which  was  manifestly  not  his  own. 

From  Jerusalem  to  Samaria  is  a  distance  of  about 
forty  miles  or  two  days'  walk.  But  the  minds  of 
the  apostles  were  preoccupied  with  more  important 
matters  doubtless  than  the  first  great  extension  of 
Christ's  Kingdom,  and  no  word  of  what  was  going 
on  reached  them  until  many  converts  had  been  bap- 
tized and  a  new  Church  founded.  Apparently  it 
was  thought  then,  as  now,  that  one  missionary  Sun- 
day in  the  year  is  ample.  When,  however,  rumours 
of  the  change  in  Samaria  reached  Jerusalem,  there 
was  evidently  a  great  stir,  and  it  was  held  that 
Peter  and  John  should  proceed  at  once  to  investi- 
gate the  matter.  I  sometimes  wonder  precisely 
what  would  have  happened  if  Peter  and  John  had 
suddenly  arrived,  let  us  say,  at  Ephesus,  to  investi- 
gate the  labours  of  Paul.  But,  at  Samaria,  where 
the  city  was  filled  with  great  joy,  it  is  clear  that 
Peter  found  that  things,  in  his  absence,  had  not 
been  quite  as  they  should  be.  It  was  true  that  God 
had  honoured  Philip  by  using  him  to  work  mir- 
acles. But  it  was  parenthetically  observed,  as  a 
kind  of  afterthought,  that  in  Peter's  opinion,  the 
Holy  Spirit  had  not  been  received.  This  was  obvi- 
ous because,  according  to  Peter's  ideas,  the  Holy 
Spirit  could  only  be  conferred  by  the  apostolic  hand, 
and  Philip  was  not  an  apostle. 

Instinctively  we  feel  that  the  glory  of  the  revival 
was  checked  by  an  ecclesiastical  ceremony.     The 


THE  PREACHINGS  OF  PHILIP  119 

spectacle  of  these  Samaritans — hundreds  of  them — 
kneeling  humbly  before  Peter  as  a  condition  of  full 
spiritual  blessing,  perpetuates  much  Jewish  and  an- 
ticipates some  Christian  ritual,  now  venerable  but 
by  no  means  accepted  by  all  who  honour  Christ. 
The  man  who  understood  the  Samaritans  was 
Philip.  Wisdom  would  suggest  that  Philip  should 
continue  his  good  work,  in  his  own  way,  without 
interference.  The  way  of  Samaria  would  not  be  of 
necessity  the  way  of  Jerusalem.  In  Jerusalem 
Christ  talked  in  the  Temple;  in  Samaria,  He  sat  by 
a  well.  Also  the  national  memories  of  Jerusalem 
and  Samaria  were  opposite. 

Peter  was  not  long  in  command  before  serious 
trouble  arose.  There  was  a  man  named  Simon, 
who  had  practised  sorcery  for  money.  His  influ- 
ence had  been  unlimited.  Small  and  great  had  be- 
lieved his  power  to  be  of  God.  When  Philip 
preached  Simon  displayed  a  rare  humility  of  mind. 
He  gave  up  his  magic.  He  submitted  modestly  to 
baptism.  We  are  told  in  definite  terms  that  he  be- 
lieved. Watching  the  works  of  Philip,  which  were 
no  mere  form,  it  never  occurred  to  Simon  to  offer 
money.  His  frauds  and  shams  were  expelled  by  the 
good  and  the  true. 

Christ  tells  us  that  the  Spirit  bloweth  where  He 
listeth.  If  proof  of  this  be  needed,  we  shall  find  it 
in  the  later  happenings  to  Philip.  No  man  has  ever 
sought  to  purchase  a  hurricane  with  money.  But 
when  Simon  was  told  that  the  free  Spirit  of  God  is 
conferred  mechanically  by  the  act  of  laying  on 
hands,  his  ill-regulated  mind  assumed  that  possibly, 
as  in  the  case  of  marriage,  or  a  funeral,  or  an  indul- 
gence, or  a  mass,   some   fee   would  be  required. 


120  THE  CHUKCH  AVE  FORGET 

Peter  was  horrified,  and  rightly.  In  an  instant  his 
soul  leapt  to  the  essential  truth,  obscured  by  the 
ceremonial,  that  the  Spirit  is  *'  the  gift  of  God  "  and 
not  the  gift  of  man.  The  form  might  be  paid  for 
and  often  has  been,  but  the  substance  never. 

To  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  Peter's  words  were 
simple,  courteous  and  fatal.  To  Simon,  he  used 
strong  language,  which  was  weaker  in  effect.  Vin- 
dicating truth  is  one  thing;  denouncing  the  cor- 
ruption of  a  form  is  another.  Simon  was,  of  course, 
gravely  to  blame.  But  he  had  not  enjoyed  Peter's 
three  years  of  close  association  with  Our  Lord.  He 
was  a  man,  struggling  feebly  from  darkness  into  the 
light.  He  had  been  misled  by  a  symbol,  which  had 
meant  one  thing  to  him  and  quite  another  to  Peter. 
Obviously,  he  could  have  no  part  nor  lot  in  laying 
on  hands.  Obviously,  his  heart  was  not  right  in 
God's  sight.  Obviously,  he  should  repent.  Obvi- 
ously, he  was  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  the  bond 
of  iniquity.  But  obviously  that  was  not  the  gospel 
which  Peter  was  sent  to  preach.  What  had  won 
Simon  was  the  love  of  Christ  as  displayed  in  Philip, 
and  only  that  same  love  could  constrain  him  from 
evil. 

Simon's  answer  was  imperfect.  He  thought  less 
of  the  sin  than  of  the  punishment.  But  no  man  is 
entirely  lost  who  asks  another  to  pray  for  him,  and 
there  is  a  humility  in  Simon's  rejoinder  which  indi- 
cates that  Christ  had  made  an  impression.  For  he 
was  seeing  this  humility  of  Christ  in  Philip.  The 
successful  preacher  and  worker  of  wonders  had 
been  roughly  superseded.  As  apostles,  Peter  and 
John  were  now  the  people  who  mattered.  They 
testified,  which  means,  I  think,  that  they  told  how 


THE  PREACHINGS  OF  PHILIP  121 

they  had  lived  and  walked  with  Jesus,  when  on 
earth.  They  preached  the  word  of  the  Lord.  And 
they  then  returned  to  Jerusalem.  While  Philip  was 
to  go  forth  to  added  conquests,  Peter  and  John 
were  unwilling  to  speak  even  in  the  villages  without 
keeping  in  touch  with  their  geographical  and  tradi- 
tional headquarters.  Then,  indeed,  they  did  take 
up  Philip's  task,  but,  by  that  time  the  pioneer  had 
gone,  once  more,  far  ahead. 

Philip  was  hardly  the  man  who,  like  Paul,  could 
combat  the  conservatism  of  Peter  and,  in  Samaria, 
the  battle  for  an  autonomous,  self-governing  Church 
was  not  to  be  fought.  A  second  time,  the  evangelist 
wandered  forth,  unrecognized,  calmly  surrendering 
to  others  his  immense  personal  popularity.  Ulti- 
mately Philip  settled  at  Csesarea,  where  Paul  vis- 
ited him,  accompanied  by  Luke,  and  we  can  im- 
agine how  they  talked  over  the  curious  enterprise 
of  which  we  have  next  so  graphic  a  description  in 
the  Acts.  Once  more,  it  is  made  plain  that  Philip 
was  guided  by  no  man,  however  lofty  his  station  in 
the  Church,  but  by  an  angel  of  the  Lord,  a  direct 
mandate  to  himself  alone, — not  of  necessity  a  bright 
and  beautiful  being  with  wings,  but  an  unmistak- 
able messenger  from  God, — a  word,  a  hint,  a  recog- 
nized command.  We  read  that  he  arose  and  went. 
In  an  obedient  progress  he  escaped  whatever  emo- 
tions may  have  troubled  him. 

Twelve  apostles  had  remained  at  Jerusalem,  yet 
it  had  been  possible  for  a  statesman  of  great  emi- 
nence to  travel  a  thousand  miles  to  that  city,  seek- 
ing the  Jewish  Messiah,  without  hearing  even  the 
name  of  Jesus.  At  that  period  Peter  was  resolutely 
opposed  to  offering  Christ  to  such  out  and  out  Gen- 


122  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

tiles  and  the  gospel  of  Isaiah,  who  lived  centuries 
earlier,  was  far  in  advance  of  the  practice  of  those 
who  led  the  Church.  It  was  in  the  ancient  prophecy 
that  the  Ethiopian  Eunuch,  the  son  and  victim  of 
Africa,  sought  and  found  the  saving  of  his  soul.  As 
his  chariot  rolled  along  the  road  to  Gaza  it  seemed 
as  if  this  man  were  leaving  behind  him  the  one 
chance  of  coming  to  Christ.  He  had  sought  with- 
out finding.  He  had  knocked  at  a  door  which  the 
Church  neglected  or  refused  to  open. 

To  reach  that  desert  road,  Philip  also  had  to  pass 
through  Jerusalem.  He  stayed  not  one  moment 
there  for  salutations  with  the  ninety  and  nine  who 
safely  lay  within  the  fold.  What  >vas  a  divine  pur- 
pose at  that  moment  seemed  in  Philip  only  a  bUnd 
instinct.  He  went  forward,  knowing  not  why. 
Presently  he  overtook  the  cavalcade  of  the  Ethi- 
opian statesman.  In  colour,  in  upbringing,  in  lan- 
guage, in  social  position  and  in  dress,  there  was  an 
utter  contrast  between  these  men.  We  can  see  how 
hard  it  would  have  been  to  speak  of  Christ  to  that 
Ethiopian  freely  in  an  ordinary  church.  His  home 
was  the  open  sky.  To  put  him  in  a  pew  would  have 
made  him  as  awkward  as  to  make  him  wear  shoes. 
Get  into  his  chariot — share  his  thought — go  at  his 
pace;  those  were  Philip's  instructions.  Philip  ran 
to  him  and  listened  to  what  he  read.  A  student 
himself  of  Isaiah,  Philip  was  fully  equipped  for  what 
had  to  be  done. 

The  Lord  High  Treasurer  of  Candace,  Queen  of 
the  Ethiopians,  was  a  man  of  courtesy.  He  took  no 
ofiFense  at  Philip's  sudden  question,  "  Do  you  under- 
stand what  you  are  reading?  "  He  admitted  at 
once  that  he  needed  a  guide.     Of  the  immortal 


THE  PREACHINGS  OF  PHILIP  123 

fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah  he  could  only  ask  the 
question,  still  put  to  us  by  modern  scholars,  *'  Of 
whom  speaketh  the  prophet  thus?  Of  himself  or 
some  other  man?"  What  we  discuss  in  whole 
libraries,  with  an  infinitude  of  technical  terms,  this 
Eunuch  summed  up  in  a  dozen  words.  You  have 
there  the  evidence  of  the  inquiring-  yet  courageous 
mind — not  assertive,  yet  able  to  arrive  at  results — 
the  fine  simplicity  of  intellect  which  men  acquire 
when  they  are  in  company  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

From  that  same  scripture  Philip  preached  Christ. 
He  began  what  he  had  to  say  precisely  where  the 
mind  of  his  hearer  had  been  baffled.  For  a  man 
who  was  studying  Isaiah,  he  did  not  turn  to  the 
Psalms.  But  Isaiah  was  only  the  first  word.  They 
did  not  leave  off  talking  until  they  had  reached  bap- 
tism. As  the  moment  of  parting-  drew  near,  we 
seem  to  detect  a  note  of  loneliness  in  the  behaviour 
of  the  Eunuch.  Was  he  to  go  on  alone,  into  the 
darkness  of  an  African  court,  with  nothing  to  bind 
him  to  the  incomparable  Friend,  of  Whom  Philip 
had  told  him  ?  There  was  water — why  could  not  he 
also  be  baptized?  The  rite  was  not  imposed;  he 
desired  it. 

To  Philip  the  only  condition  was  a  belief  with  the 
whole  heart.  No  creed  had  to  be  learnt;  no  creed 
was  in  existence.  Even  with  such  behef,  he  said,  not 
"thou  must,"  but  "thou  mayest."  Baptism  be- 
came a  blessing,  not  a  burden.  The  font  was  a  des- 
ert pool.  The  whole  universe  was  the  vault  of  that 
cathedral.  "I  believe,"  said  the  Eunuch,  "that 
Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God." 

And  on  that  belief  he  acted.  By  commanding  the 
chariot  to  stand  still,  he  interrupted  his  journey — 


124     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

suspended  his  business — so  that  the  whole  caval- 
cade knew  that  something  had  happened.  Their 
amazement  may  be  imagined  as  they  watched  the 
great  man  in  his  robes  descend  from  his  chariot  and 
walk,  side  by  side,  with  the  dust-laden  wayfarer 
who  had  so  recently  joined  him.  In  that  water  they 
were  no  longer  men  of  diverse  race  and  position, 
but  brothers,  and  when  Philip  held  in  his  arms  that 
Ethiopian,  he  declared  for  all  time  the  ultimate 
brotherhood  of  the  human  family. 

From  that  moment  the  Spirit  caught  away  Philip 
and  the  Eunuch  saw  him  no  more.  If  he  went  on 
his  way  rejoicing  it  was  because  he  had  in  his 
chariot  another  Companion.  It  was  made  clear 
that  this  dark-visaged  convert  belonged  not  to  the 
evangelist  but  to  the  Christ  alone.  No  human  hand 
was  ever  laid  on  him.  No  ecclesiastical  authority 
suggested  that  his  reception  of  the  Gospel  was  in- 
complete. The  act  in  that  desert  was  sole  and  com- 
plete— a  distinct  arrangement  and  reconciliation  be- 
tween God  and  man, — with  no  intermediary  what- 
soever. Philip  was  found  not  in  Ethiopia,  but  at 
Azotus.  Thence  he  made  his  way  northward  to 
Cccsarea,  and  there,  probably,  he  married.  Yet, 
while  Ca^sarea  was  only  sixty  miles  from  Jeru- 
salem, the  world  still  lay  beyond,  untouched.  There 
were  ships  in  the  bay,  but  Philip  stayed  on  shore. 
Even  Paul  had  already  reached  Damascus. 


XV 
"SAUL  OF  TARSUS   DIES" 

HERE,  then,  we  have  the  situation  on  that 
decisive  morning  v^hen  Paul  marched  on 
Damascus.  The  good  news  of  a  risen  Christ  was 
spreading,  but  under  no  definite  guidance,  and 
neither  Peter's  steady  conservatism  nor  PhiHp's 
evangehc  fervour  made  up  for  the  lost  statesman- 
ship of  Stephen.  Neither  in  the  ordained  twelve 
apostles  nor  in  the  six  surviving  deacons  was  there 
the  man  to  grip  the  problem  which  confronted  the 
Church.  Stephen  was  dead,  and  it  was  this  very- 
death  of  Stephen  that  secured  for  the  disciples  the 
incomparable  service  of  a  repentant  Saul. 

With  every  breath  Saul  seemed  to  pant  out 
threatenings  and  slaughter.  He  personified  those 
passions  which  cursed  mid-Europe  with  thirty  years 
of  brutal  war,  which  wrecked  the  unity  of  Ireland, 
and  massacred  the  innocent  of  Armenia.  Tyranny 
is  not  a  system  but  a  sin, — a  lust  for  rule  over 
others  instead  of  an  acceptance  of  the  one  rule  over 
all — and  this  despotic  temper  is  often  served  by  a 
rigid  conscience  in  ordinary  morals.  A  man's  self 
is  a  royal  court  where  there  may  be  and  usually  is 
a  decent  etiquette.  When  Saul  was  against  the 
Christ  he  yet  lived  a  blameless  Pharisee.  As  mon- 
arch and  usurper,  his  will  acknowledged  the  dis- 
cipline of  lofty  station.    He  was  trained,  as  a  prince 

125 


126     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

of  righteousness,  in  the  most  perfect  manner  of  the 
hereditary  law. 

Saul  had  been  educated  at  the  feet  of  the  greatest 
rabbi  then  living  in  Jerusalem.  When  the  Chris- 
tians were  brought  before  the  Sanhedrin,  Gamaliel 
presented  in  faultless  language  the  age-long  case 
for  toleration.  If  the  cause  were  of  man,  it  would 
come  to  naught,  but  if  it  were  of  God,  how  could 
any  one  overthrow  it?  Therefore,  let  them  leave 
the  disciples  severely  alone.  The  fallacy  in  the 
compromise  lay  in  this — that  the  Christian  move- 
ment was  not  simply  divine.  It  was  also  human. 
Our  Lord  was  man  as  well  as  God.  And  in  men. 
His  power,  as  God,  was  revealed.  As  those  discov- 
ered who  argued  with  Stephen,  you  could  not  be 
sure  that  a  triumphant  Church  would  leave  the  old 
Temple  standing.  Saul  was  driven  to  conclude  that 
there  was  not  room  in  the  same  world  for  an  unre- 
pentant Sanhedrin  and  a  missionary  movement  in- 
spired by  Christ.  You  could  not  assume,  as  Gama- 
liel did,  that  one  side  would  prosper  without  the 
other  side  dwindling.  The  very  synagogues  were 
slipping  away.  Gamaliel's  theory  was  all  right  for 
those  men  who  were  ready  to  accept  the  verdict  of 
history.  But  a  verdict  by  default  did  not  satisfy 
Saul.    He  would  fight  the  case. 

By  methods  which  may  have  included  torture, 
Saul  compelled  many  Christians  to  blaspheme  the 
Saviour's  name.  Over  towns  and  villages  in  Judea, 
he  set  up  a  terror  which  recalls  the  achievements 
of  Torquemada.  But  already  the  spiritual  influence 
of  the  Gospel  was  spreading  beyond  the  temporal 
limits  of  the  state.  No  geographical  realm  can  ever 
wield  the  power  exercised  by  universal  good  battling 


"  SAUL  OF  TAESUS  DIES ''  l27 

with  universal  evil.  How  was  Jerusalem  to  stamp 
out  a  faith  which  had  reached  Damascus?  In 
Derbe  and  Lystra  and  Iconium,  we  shall  see  later 
how  Judaism,  bereft  of  the  regular  law,  had  to 
adopt  lynching  and  riot.  Civilization  can  control 
many  things,  but  not  the  wind  and  the  weather, 
the  Spirit  of  nature,  sweeping  where  it  wishes. 

Saiil's  enterprise  was  frankly  illegal.  The  city 
of  Damascus  was  held  by  a  governor  and  a  garrison, 
acting  under  the  sovereignty  of  King  Aretas.  The 
place  was  therefore  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
High  Priest  and  the  Sanhedrin.  Yet  they  gave 
letters  of  authority  to  Saul  which  suggested  that  in 
the  synagogues  of  this  distant  city  he  should  stir 
up  trouble  against  the  disciples,  who  were  to  be 
seized  by  mere  force  and  dragged  in  chains  to 
Jerusalem,  there  to  receive  the  punishment  which 
no  governor  would  care  to  administer  in  Damascus 
herself.  This  proposal  did  not  shock  the  rulers  of 
the  people  in  either  place.  When  Saul  turned 
Christian,  the  governor  in  Damascus  apparently 
took  the  side  of  the  Jews  against  him.  But,  with 
responsible  officials  so  acting  in  that  and  other  eras, 
the  common  people  lose  confidence  in  the  law  and 
order  on  which  society  must  be  based.  In  the 
flame  that  leaped  from  heaven,  those  scraps  of 
paper  in  Saul's  wallet  were  consumed  to  ashes. 
His  secret  treaties,  his  private  denunciations,  his 
lettrcs  de  cachet,  all  the  subterfuges  of  despotism — 
vanished  in  the  smoke  of  an  awful  revolution. 

When  Saul  w^as  drawing  near  to  Damascus,  the 
sun  rose  in  the  heavens,  sultry  and  threatening. 
But  he  would  not  halt.  As  they  looked  on  the  city, 
lovely  in  the  foreground  as  a  mirage,  Saul  knew 


128  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

well  what  scenes  awaited  his  arrival — the  wailing 
of  children,  the  shrieks  of  women,  and  the  groans 
and  cries  of  tortured  men.  In  that  dark  mind  at 
that  dark  moment  was  summed  up  the  age-long 
agony  of  tyrants  and  persecutors  who  feel  them- 
selves the  pain  which  they  inflict  on  others.  If 
Saul  had  been  proof  against  such  emotions,  if  so 
good  a  man  had  actually  done  so  deep  a  wrong, 
anarchy  itself  would  have  been  preferable  to  a 
regime  so  cruel. 

A  light  shone  around  him — a  light  from  heaven — 
from  heaven  the  region  of  happiness — which  happi- 
ness is  the  test  of  all  policy  among  men.  Saul 
suddenly  realized  that  that  light  was  truth.  Above 
and  below,  there  was  one  will  to  be  done.  Nothing 
was  to  be  inflicted  on  an  earthly  home  which  would 
be  out  of  place  in  those  regions  of  joy  which  sur- 
round God's  throne.  Saul  fell  to  the  earth. 
Temples  and  synagogues,  traditions  and  policies 
faded  from  his  mind.  He  was  back  in  the  ele- 
mental dust  from  which  he  sprang.  He  was  to 
answer  for  his  conduct  not  to  priests  and  rabbis, 
but  to  the  Everlasting  Himself. 

In  the  voice  that  spoke,  Saul  did  not  immedi- 
ately recognize  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  But  we  who 
have  before  us  the  Gospels  must  needs  detect  those 
unmistakable  accents — the  fondness  for  calling  His 
sheep  by  name — the  unerring  use  of  a  question — 
the  exquisite  choice  of  simile  and  parable — the 
tender  appeal  from  the  bad  in  man  to  the  good. 
If  literary  evidence  counts  for  anything,  here  was 
a  conversation,  manifestly  authentic  by  both  parties. 

Christ's  aim  is  always  to  put  life  on  a  basis  of 
common  sense.     Before  He  blames  men.  He  asks 


"SAUL  OF  TARSUS  DIES"  129 

them  why  they  act  as  they  do — Saul,  Saul,  why 
persecutest  thou  me?  If  a  child  is  cross  and  naughty, 
what  is  the  reason?  It  is  science  appHed  to  con- 
duct. It  is  making  men  think  as  accurately  about 
themselves  as  God  thinks.  What  is  behind  this 
treaty?  What  is  the  motive  for  this  war?  Why 
are  millions  constantly  made  miserable?  Let 
statesmanship  explain  itself. 

Saul's  reply  was  characteristic  of  the  governing 
class  to  which  he  belonged.  The  question  itself 
did  not  matter.  The  only  point  was  who  put  the 
question.  The  sweated  worker,  the  manacled 
slave,  who  asks  why  he  is  persecuted — the  humblest 
disciple  who  asked — would  have  received  from  Saul 
a  very  different  answer  from  that  given  to  a  voice 
of  high  authority.  "  Who  art  thou,  Lord?  "  inquired 
the  persecutor.  He  respected  not  man  as  man,  but 
the  position  enjoyed  by  man.  Show  him  a  true 
authority,  and  he  would  obey. 

The  utterance,  which  follows,  reached  to  the  very 
soul.  "  /  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest'*  It  was  as 
if  He  had  said  "  Jehovah  Jesus  " — God  present  as 
Man — wherever  Man  is  persecuted.  Inasmuch  as 
ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  little 
ones,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me.  Gamaliel  had  warned 
his  colleagues  not  to  begin  a  fight  against  God  and, 
following  this  thought,  the  Voice  added,  "  It  is  hard 
for  thee  to  kick  against  the  goad."  It  was  a  com- 
ment which  Saul  never  forgot  when  he  told  the 
story.  Other  details  he  might  paraphrase — never 
that. 

There,  lying  on  the  ground,  he  trembled — too 
astonished  to  speak.  Those  who  were  with  him 
saw  the  light,  heard  speaking,  but  not  apparently 


130     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

the  actual  words.  They  also  were  silent.  At  last, 
Saul  found  a  few  syllables.  For  his  conduct,  he 
advanced  no  excuse.  He  left  that  account  for  the 
Crucified  to  deal  with.  He  turned  that  instant 
from  past  to  future.  "  Lord,''  said  he,  "  what  zvilt 
thou  have  me  to  dof  "  And  the  rejoinder  was  Saul's 
only  punishment.  He  must  arise, — recover  his  self- 
respect;  he  must  go  into  the  city — continue  his 
usual  occupation;  and  in  the  city  he  must  receive 
God's  orders  from  the  men  whom  he  had  hated  and 
despised.  To  all  men,  it  must  be  made  plain  that 
Saul  meditated  wrong  and  had  changed  his  mind. 
The  disciples  in  Damascus  must  be  vindicated. 

But  that  measure  of  reparation  was  not  all. 
Against  the  disciples,  Paul  had  offended,  but  he 
had  also  been  unjust  to  himself.  Only  a  madman 
would  have  tempted  and  compelled  others  to  tempt 
the  perils  of  that  midday  sun.  When  Saul  rose 
from  the  ground,  he  was  a  blind  man  and  had  to  be 
led  by  the  hand.  Whether  he  ever  fully  regained 
his  sight  is  doubtful.  His  indifference  to  nature 
and  scenery  was  complete.  In  writing  letters,  he 
was  always  largely  dependent  on  a  secretary,  and 
some  have  told  us  that  the  Epistle  to  the  Galatians, 
which  seems  to  have  been  an  exception,  was  in- 
scribed painfully  in  a  big  and  clumsy  caligraphy. 
His  health  continued  uncertain.  His  face  was  dis- 
figured. And  his  very  name  became  intolerable  to 
him.  "  Saul "  meant  *'  asked  for  " — the  man  sought 
after — the  king  who  is  head  and  shoulders  above 
his  fellows.  But,  as  Paul,  which  means  "  little,*'  he 
became  less  than  the  least  of  the  apostles  and  chief 
only  of  sinners. 

When,  in  later  years,  the  Apostle  used  the  phrase 


''SAUL  OF  TARSUS  DIES"  131 

"  buried  with  Christ,"  there  was  never  a  doubt 
what  he  meant.  For  three  days,  mystical  as  those 
of  Jonah  and  of  Our  Lord,  he  Hved,  dead  to  the 
world,  seeing  no  one  and  neither  eating  nor  drink- 
ing. In  those  days,  he  did  in  very  fact  put  off  the 
old  man  with  his  deeds  and  put  on  the  new  man. 
Yet  such  change  of  mind,  such  repentance  was  only 
the  beginning.  Saul,  buried  with  Christ,  must  also 
rise  with  Him.  He  must  pass  from  death,  not 
into  corruption,  but  into  life.  His  must  be  years 
of  constructive  service  and  sacrifice,  not  years  of 
emaciation  and  self-reproach.  Flagellation,  the  hair 
shirt,  the  miseries  of  the  fakir,  the  brooding  of  the 
spiritual  hypochondriac  must  be  corrected  at  once 
by  the  plain  duty  of  "  doing." 


XVI 
THE  VISION  OF  PAUU 

THOSE  who  have  read  the  tragic  story  of 
Armenia  will  understand  with  what  fears  the 
disciples  of  Damascus  heard  that  Paul  was  in  their 
city,  armed  with  a  commission  to  bind  all  who  called 
on  Christ's  name.  With  the  horrors  of  arrest  and 
deportation  hanging-  over  them,  these  families 
passed  each  day  in  suspense  and  doubtless  the  views 
of  Ananias,  their  leader,  were  typical.  That  man 
would  never  have  forsworn  his  soul's  allegiance  to 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  No  maltreatment,  however 
cruel,  could  drive  him  from  his  faith.  But  his 
vision,  which  should  have  included  conquest,  was 
limited  to  tribulation.  To  his  mind,  men  had  their 
various  labels, — national  and  ecclesiastical — which 
there  was  no  power  on  earth  to  alter.  The  Jew 
must  always  be  a  Jew — the  Moslem  always  a  Mos- 
lem— divided  Man  could  never  be  united  in  one 
brotherhood.  The  attitude  of  Ananias  towards 
Saul  exemplifies  those  ineradicable  divisions  which 
have  depopulated  the  near  east  and  disintegrated 
countries  like  Ireland.  A  Church  or  a  Nation, 
guided  by  Ananias  of  Damascus,  may  be  sublime 
in  defense  but  it  will  be  stationary.  Standing  firm, 
it  stands  still. 

Between  sins  against  God  and  sins  against  men, 
132 


THE  VISION  OF  PAUL  133 

Ananias  drew  a  false  distinction.  He  could  forgive 
the  victim  of  intemperance  but  he  could  not  pardon 
the  author  of  atrocities.  He  had  realized  the  Christ 
Who  touches  the  leper.  But  the  Christ  Who 
prays  for  His  persecutors  was  as  yet  beyond 
him.  Ananias  knew  that  Saul  was  in  the  city.  Of 
the  letters  from  Jerusalem,  he  had  also  heard,  and 
this  means  that  he  must  have  been  aware  of  the 
grave  trouble  into  which  his  ecclesiastical  adversary 
had  fallen.  Christ  told  him,  as  He  tells  us  all,  that 
we  must  do  good  to  those  who  despitefully  use  us, 
but  from  this  duty  Ananias  deviated.  He  did  not 
bring  himself  to  meet  Saul.  He  avoided  the 
street  named  Straight. 

It  was  partly  because  Ananias  was  so  full  of, 
Saul's  ill  reputation  that  he  failed  to  realize  how 
greatly  Saul  needed  a  friend.  To  this  stricken  man, 
food  had  been  offered,  doubtless  by  Judas,  his  host, 
but  somehow  he  could  not  eat.  What  he  yearned 
for  was  sympathy  and  it  was  just  here — in  sym- 
pathy— that  Judas  was  lacking.  Saul's  host  was 
the  kind  of  admirable  man  of  whom  we  know 
nothing  except  his  address.  Little  mattered  about 
him  except  the  roof  over  his  head.  He  was  good 
but  his  goodness  was  institutional.  For  children, 
he  would  have  provided  an  orphanage;  for  the  sick, 
an  infirmary ;  for  the  aged,  an  almshouse.  Into  his^ 
benevolence  he  did  not  bring  the  human  touch.! 
As  Ananias  was  to  learn,  the  human  touch  only 
comes  after  the  divine  vision.  Love  for  man  is  our 
expression  of  the  God  who  is  Love. 

Telepathy  is  this  sympathy, — this  human  touch — 
acting  at  a  distance.  Some  years  later,  it  was  to 
be  telepathy  that  would  bring  Peter  to  Cornelius. 


134     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

It  was  telepathy—the  wireless  of  the  soul — that 
brought  Ananias  to  Saul.  In  this  case,  as  in  the 
case  of  Cornelius,  we  see  a  profound  desire  for 
help,  on  the  one  side,  met  by  a  profound  reluctance, 
on  the  other  side,  to  render  the  help.  In  both  cases, 
the  plain  commands  of  Christ  had  to  be  supple- 
mented by  visions.  The  Almighty  found  it  easier 
to  secure  obedience  from  men  when  they  were  semi- 
conscious than  from  men  whose  faculties,  including 
an  undisciplined  will,  were  fully  awake.  In  both 
cases,  the  mind  had  to  be  Hberated  from  the  im- 
pedimenta of  circumstance  ere  it  could  leap  glori- 
ously to  its  appointed  goal.  It  is  neither  magic  nor 
mystery  but  the  truth  of  God  and  His  poets  to  say 
that  we  are  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of. 

What  God  commands  is  not  always  the  same. 
He  is  at  once  Conservative  and  Radical.  To  Saul, 
who  went  wrong,  the  Voice  cried  "Halt!"  To 
Ananias,  who  never  went  at  all,  the  Voice  said 
"Go!"  In  Damascus  to-day,  the  best  known 
street  is  still  called  Straight.  It  was  to  Damascus 
what  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  is  to  Paris,  what  Fifth 
Avenue  is  to  New  York,  what  Holborn  is  to  Lon- 
don. Any  house  in  the  street  called  Straight  was 
a  landmark.  The  Voice  did  not  suggest  that 
Ananias  should  inquire  for  the  dwelling  of  Judas. 
He  would  be  acquainted  with  it  already.  Having 
arrived  there,  he  must  ask,  in  that  dwelling,  for 
one  by  name,  Saul  of  Tarsus.  The  wording  of  the 
narrative  is  here  exquisitely  ironical.  It  suggests 
that,  of  course,  Ananias  could  not  have  known  of 
this  Saul  of  Tarsus  or  he  would  have  hurried  to 
him  long  ago. 

At  this  command,  Ananias  opened  the  floodgates 


THE  VISION  OF  PAUL  135 

of  his  objections.  So  many  people  had  talked  to^' 
Ananias  about  Saul.  Ananias  was  governed  by 
what  in  these  days  we  call  the  newspapers.  In  the 
bazaars  of  Damascus,  the  arrival  of  the  persecutor 
had  been,  as  it  were,  written  up  as  the  sensation  of 
the  day.  Special  correspondents  had  cabled  from 
Jerusalem  Saul's  record.  Scareheads  filled  the 
press.  But  what  God  said  to  Ananias  was  "  Go 
thy  way !  " — not  the  way  of  the  editorials  but  "  thy 
way  " — the  way  that  you  alone  can  tread,  to  an 
end  that  you  alone  can  see.  Let  the  world  do 
exactly  what  it  likes  and  say  what  it  pleases;  for 
you  there  is  one  street  called  Straight,  and  one 
house  where  Judas  lives  and  one  man  in  that  house 
called  Saul  of  Tarsus,  who  is  in  distress  over  his 
eyes. 

While  Ananias  hesitated,  the  vision  of  Saul  had 
already  o'erleapt  the  barriers.  This  latest  disciple 
had  seen  the  love  of  Christ  constraining  even  one 
of  his  victims  to  come  to  him  with  a  message  of 
reconciliation.  As  Saul  prayed,  his  belief  in  Ana- 
nias grew  beyond  the  belief  of  Ananias  in  himself. 
He  saw  Ananias  coming  to  him  before  Ananias  was 
willing  to  come.  He  saw,  but  not  by  sight,  and  it 
was  in  those  hours  of  blindness  that  he  coined  the 
favourite  phrase  of  his, — about  our  walking  in  faith. 

Ananias  had  to  be  taught  that  the  people  who  do| 
most  evil  in  the  world  are  the  people  who  could  do| 
most  good.  The  very  fact  that  Saul  was  a  perse- 
cutor meant  that  he  might  be  a  chosen  vessel. 
His  very  enterprise  in  reaching  Damascus  sug- 
gested that  he  would  be  the  man  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  Gentiles.  His  masterful  audacity 
was   the  very  quality  that  would   enable  him   to 


136     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET^ 

stand  before  kings.  His  Pharisaic  zeal  made  him 
the  ideal  missioner  for  Jews.  Having  been  cruel 
to  others,  he  would  be  the  more  likely  himself  to 
suffer  gladly  the  tribulation  of  Christ.  All  this 
was  explained  by  the  Voice  with  a  patient  lucidity 
which,  in  the  end,  won  the  entire  assent  of  the  dis- 
ciple. He  argued  no  further  but  went  his  way; 
his  way  was  now  clearly  seen  to  be  the  street 
called  Straight. 

Statesmanship  would  have  suggested  that  a 
blind  persecutor  is  less  dangerous  than  one  who 
could  see.  Before  arming  Saul  with  the  weapon  of 
sight,  surely  Ananias  should  have  sought  evidence 
of  his  change  in  heart — surely  he  should  have  de- 
manded surrender  of  his  credentials  from  Jeru- 
salem. But  there  is  no  condition  to  the  approach 
of  a  true  friend.  In  that  brief  walk  with  God  down 
the  street  called  Straight,  Ananias  had  already  be- 
come a  bigger  man.  We  do  not  find  any  incon- 
gruity in  one  so  recently  timid  now  displaying  so 
notable  a  courage  and  power.  He  did  not  argue 
with  Saul  or  demand  confession.  Whatever  had 
been  Saul's  humiliation  was  a  sacrifice  for  God 
alone.  Ananias  came  as  a  comrade — laid  his  hand 
on  Saul's  shoulder,  and  said  "  Brother,  receive  thy 
sigJit."  Know  us  more  perfectly ;  for  where  knowl- 
edge is  perfect,  there  can  be  no  hatred.  To  know 
all  is  to  forgive  all.  In  that  revelation  of  what,  in 
Christ,  man  can  be  to  man,  Saul's  prejudices  fell 
like  scales  from  his  eyes.  He  arose,  ate,  drank,  was 
refreshed.  It  was  his  resurrection.  In  brother- 
hood, he  found  a  career. 

Merely  to  change  his  opinion  about  Christ  and 
to  find  in  the  disciples  a  company  of  good  and  lov- 


THE  VISION  OF  PAUL  137 

ing  people,  was  not  enough  for  Saul.  If  you  are 
not  to  be  against  the  Saviour,  then  you  must  be  for 
Him.  To  Saul,  conversion  included  membership 
in  the  Church.  Baptism  meant  that  this  member- 
ship v^as  public.  Nothing  could  nov^  happen  to  the 
disciples  which  did  not  involve  Saul  in  the  risk. 
The  community  in  Damascus  was,  perhaps,  an  un- 
duly silent  Church.  Its  policy  was  caution.  But 
where  others  would  have  criticized  that  Church, 
Saul  made  good  whatever  was  lacking  by  himself 
preaching.  He  did  not  avoid  the  difhculties  of  the 
old  faith  by  starting  a  new  one.  It  was  in  the 
established  synagogues  that  he  began  by  proclaim- 
ing the  Son  of  God.  Nor  did  he  dally  or  hesitate. 
Whatever  could  be  done  for  Christ  here  and  now, 
that  thing  he  did  at  once. 

By  such  immediate  action,  he  anticipated  many 
perplexities  which  otherwise  might  have  arisen. 
He  did  not  wait  to  explain  his  position.  However 
astonished  might  be  the  multitude,  and  numerous 
their  questions,  Saul  treated  his  own  personality 
as  negligible.  Like  Ananias,  he  appeared  to  grow 
with  the  greatness  of  the  new  thoughts  which  filled 
him.  With  an  authority  far  other  than  that  of  the 
chief  priests,  this  man  seemed  suddenly  to  domi  ^ 
nate  Damascus.  Here  and  at  Jerusalem,  he  who^ 
had  listened  so  intently  to  Stephen  was  able  to  con- 
found the  Jews,  and  especially  the  Grecian  prose- 
lytes, with  Stephen^s  arguments.  He  was  resum- 
ing Stephen's  life-work. 

Between  Jerusalem  and  Damascus  there  were 
doubtless  important  differences.  One  was  a  re- 
ligious and  the  other  a  commercial  city.  But  in 
one  place  as  in  the  other,  men's  hearts  behaved  in 


138     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

the  same  way.  A  diverse  environment  did  not 
materially  alter  the  inner  motive.  In  Christ  v^as 
Life;  apart  from  Him  v^as  Death;  and  resistance  to 
Him  turned  somehow  to  murder.  Whether  at 
Jerusalem  or  at  Damascus,  the  Jews  conspired  to 
kill  Saul. 

The  murder  of  Stephen  had  been  applauded,  but 
in  Saul's  case  it  was  deemed  more  prudent  to  at- 
tempt at  Damascus  a  secret  assassination.  Al- 
ready, the  Gentiles — the  common  and  despised 
people — were  forming  themselves  into  a  body- 
guard for  Him  Whom  the  people  had  heard 
gladly.  Religion  must  lie  in  wait,  therefore — must 
work  its  will 'through  a  Holy  Inquisition — must 
strike  suddenly  in  the  dark. 

At  Damascus,  with  a  curious  prescience,  they 
watched  the  walls  and  the  gates.  It  was  not  that 
they  suspected  Saul  of  cowardice.  Every  day  as  it 
came  disproved  that.  But  they  knew  that  he  was 
already  taking  the  world  for  his  parish.  He  was 
not  a  man  who  would  care  to  fight  merely  a  local 
battle,  nor  would  he  needlessly  risk  a  life  that  be- 
longed to  Another.  Like  the  bravest  of  soldiers, 
he  was  not  ashamed  to  take  cover.  For  Christ's 
sake,  he  would  consent  to  appear  ignominious.  He 
would  suffer  even  ridicule.  And  loud  was  the 
laughter  that  arose  in  Damascus  when  it  was  dis- 
covered one  morning  that  Saul  of  Tarsus — the 
favourite  pupil  of  Gamaliel,  the  Pharisee  of  Phari- 
sees, the  Terror  of  the  Nazarenes,  the  companion  of 
priests  and  rabbis — had  escaped,  the  previous  night, 
in  a  basket.  It  is  just  possible  that  the  Christians, 
left  behind,  experienced  a  sense  of  relief. 

The   discussions   had   been    heated.     First,  was 


THE  VISION  OF  PAUL  139 

this  man  Saul  the  same  man  as  Saul  of  Jerusalem? 
Or  was  he  an  impostor?  Could  it  be  that  anybody 
in  modern  times  would  accept  the  eternal  claim  of 
the  Christ?  And  secondly,  was  this  alleged  Mes- 
siah of  Nazareth  the  same  Man  as  the  Messiah  of 
Psalmist  and  Prophet?  Was  the  old  hope  still 
translatable  into  new  and  actual  phrase?  These 
were  issues  on  which  men  were  ready  to  kill  one 
another  and  be  killed. 

As  we  shall  see,  Saul  did  not  go  immediately  to 
Jerusalem.  After  leaving  Damascus,  he  spent  three 
years  in  Arabia.  It  was  only  after  this  long  period 
that  he  returned  to  the  capital.  During  that  three 
years,  the  metropolitan  Church  had  advanced  not 
one  step  beyond  what  I  may  call  the  Ananias  frame 
of  mind.  Peter  was  there,  so  was  James,  the 
brother  of  Our  Lord,  but  neither  they  nor  any 
other  disciple  except  Barnabas  was  willing  to  shake 
the  hand  of  Saul,  and  Barnabas  came  from  Cyprus 
and  Antioch.  It  needed  the  foreign  missionary 
thus  to  liberalize  and  inspire  the  congregation  that 
had  never  travelled.  As  Saul  told  the  Galatians,  he 
owed  nothing  to  any  of  the  twelve  original  apostles. 
After  obtaining  the  necessary  introduction,  he  did 
indeed  stay  fifteen  days  with  Peter  and  he  secured 
an  interview  with  James.  But — here  as  in  Damas- 
cus— his  preaching  aroused  sanguinary  resentment 
and  the  disciples  were  glad  to  get  him  away  to 
Csssarea.  And  thence  he  sailed,  his  career  ap- 
parently ended  before  it  began,  to  his  home  in 
Tarsus. 


XVII 
THE  VISION  OF  PETER 

WITH  Saul  the  persecutor  changed  into  a  dis- 
ciple, and  with  Paul  the  propagandist  safely 
shipped  to  Tarsus,  the  Christians  in  Judea,  Samaria 
and  Galilee  could  at  last  breathe  freely.  Suddenly 
the  Church  militant  became  the  Church  at  rest. 
The  only  fear  was  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  of  power  and  conquest  and  wind  and 
flame  fell  quietly  on  men's  souls  as  comfort.  Num- 
bers increased,  statistics  were  quite  satisfactory, 
and  every  pew  was  full.  The  churches  were  edified, 
or  built  up.  It  was  the  kind  of  period  that  produces 
great  architecture.  As  chief  pastor  or  bishop, 
Peter  was  admirable.  Indeed,  he  was  already  an 
Archbishop,  for  even  Galilee  acknowledged  him. 
He  went  everywhere,  and  his  finger  guided  every 
decision.  Unless  Peter  approved,  no  one,  however 
powerful  or  wealthy,  could  call  himself  a  Chris- 
tian, and  Peter's  approval  was  strictly  limited  by 
ancient  rules  and  traditions.  As  Philip  was  first 
of  the  great  Protestants,  so  Peter  was  first  of  the 
great  Catholics. 

It  happened  that  Philip  was  still  working  at 
Csesarea.  His  very  daughters  were  preaching  the 
Gospel.     In  the  case  of  the  Ethiopian  Eunuch,  no 

140 


THE  VISION  OF  PETER  141 

problem  had  arisen  because  this  inconvenient  per- 
son had  betaken  himself  to  Africa,  and  had  been 
thus  segregated.  But  in  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles, 
an  interest  began  to  be  displayed  in  Christ  by  men 
and  women  who  were  not  content  to  live  in  spiri- 
tual exile.  One  of  the  best  known  residents  in 
Csesarea  was  a  Roman  ofBcer  of  the  fashionable 
Italian  Regiment,  who  was  at  once  rich,  generous, 
and  devout.  He  and  his  household,  which  included 
private  soldiers  of  the  Roman  army,  were  Christian 
in  every  sense  of  that  word,  but  they  were  refused 
recognition  because  they  had  not  submitted  to 
Jewish  rites.  They  were  in  much  the  same  posi- 
tion, therefore,  as  Episcopalians  who  cannot  get 
into  communion  with  Roman  Catholics,  or  Bap- 
tists who  cannot  get  into  communion  with  Episco- 
palians, or  Quakers  who  cannot  get  into  communion 
with  Baptists.  No  argument  could  be  more  plau- 
sible than  Peter's.  Christ  was  a  Jew.  He  had  said 
that  He  came  not  to  destroy  the  Law  but  to  fulfill, 
and  He  referred  to  the  Jewish  Law.  He  attended 
a  synagogue.  He  worshipped  in  the  temple  where 
He  observed  the  feasts.  It  was  not  easy  to  see 
that  the  Risen  Christ  had  fulfilled  these  things,  that 
He  had  been  Himself  the  Law  and  the  Sacrifice, 
and  that  in  Him  are  all  our  obligations  summed 
up.  Without  Christ,  nothing  of  all  these  matters, 
and  therefore  in  Christ  they  are  all  subordinate. 

In  Paul,  as  in   David  Livingstone,  we  find  the| 
genius   of   restlessness.     He   was   born   to   travel. ' 
Whenever  he  reached  the  coast,  he  was  ill  at  ease 
unless  he  could  find  a  ship.     Brought  up  in  Tarsus, 
which  was  a  leading  seaport  in  the   Levant,   he 
showed  the  same  passion  to  cross  the  ocean  which 


142  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

animates  the  modern  aviator.  Christ  did  not  dis- 
courage such  pioneers.  On  the  contrary,  He  ap- 
pealed to  men  for  enterprise.  He  valued  and  He 
claimed  initiative.  "  Yes,"  He  said,  "  go — go  into 
all  the  world — but  go  not  for  mere  pleasure  of  go- 
ing, but  with  an  object,  and  let  that  object  be  to 
carry  Me  with  you."  Indeed,  the  main  difficulty 
with  Peter  was  that  he  did  not  go  quickly  enough. 
He  was  too  anxious  to  remain  at  the  centre,  while 
the  circumference  was  broadening — to  live  aloof 
from  the  spread  of  the  faith,  a  venerated  prisoner  of 
the  Vatican.  After  Paul  had  spent  three  years  in 
Arabia,  had  preached  in  Antioch,  and  in  Damascus, 
and  when  he  was  evangelizing  Cilicia,  Peter  had 
not  got  beyond  Joppa.  He  still  lodged  in  the 
house  of  one  Simon  a  Tanner. 

Like  other  ports,  Joppa  was  a  rough  place.  And 
no  part  of  Joppa  was  so  unsavoury  as  Simon's 
stockyard  where  beasts  were  slaughtered  and  their 
skins  removed.  Yet  such  industries  had  to  be  car- 
ried on  by  somebody,  Simon  the  Apostle  had  once 
been  Simon  the  Fisherman  and  Simon  the  Fisher- 
man had  no  right,  after  all,  to  look  down  upon 
Simon  the  Tanner.  If  John  the  Baptist  was  to 
prophesy,  some  one  must  clearly  make  him  a 
leathern  girdle.  To  Peter,  the  tannery  was,  how- 
ever, only  of  interest  because  it  furnished  funds  to 
sustain  the  ecclesiastical  roof  where  the  chief  pastor 
of  the  Church  could  pray.  Far  removed  from  dis- 
turbing sights  and  sounds,  Peter  knelt  motionless 
as  the  statue  of  a  saint  in  its  niche.  Indeed,  he  was 
so  still  as  he  prayed  that,  to  be  perfectly  frank,  he 
fell  fast  asleep.  This  was  between  the  hours  of 
nine  and  twelve  in  the  morning  when  the  whole 


THE  VISION  OF  PETER  US 

world  was  at  work.  Even  Saul  of  Tarsus  was,  at 
that  moment,  wearing  out  his  fingers  over  canvas 
of  goat's  hair.  But  at  Joppa  the  severance  be- 
tween commerce  and  Christianity  had  already  com- 
menced. 

In  Peter's  attitude,  there  was  much  self-denial. 
For  breakfast,  he  had  eaten  nothing — it  may  be 
that  the  food  did  not  seem  to  him  to  be  ceremonially 
clean — and  he  was  suffering  in  his  body  from 
hunger.  What  Christ  needed  just  then  was  not,| 
however,  a  fasting  apostle  but  a  sagacious  and 
sensible  one.  There  were  problems  to  be  solved. 
The  peril  in  Palestine  was  no  longer  the  evil  which 
the  Church  failed  to  cast  out  but  the  good  which 
the  Church  failed  to  bring  in.  There  was  much  to 
be  said  against  troubling  these  peaceful  congrega- 
tions with  the  disputed  presence  of  Cornelius.  But 
it  was  unjust,  none  the  less,  that  any  congregation 
should  secure  its  unity  by  excluding  those  who 
were  entitled  to  approach  the  mercy  seat. 

To  make  contact  between  Peter  and  this  truly 
excellent  Cornelius  needed  two  dreams,  and  once 
more  we  see  at  work  the  wireless  of  the  soul.  The 
two  men  were  each  alone,  as  they  prayed, — Peter, 
like  Ananias,  because  he  wished  to  be  alone,  and 
Cornelius,  like  Saul,  because  no  Christian  received 
him.  Cornelius  was  no  more  forgotten,  however, 
than  was  the  Ethiopian  Eunuch.  Of  both  these  men 
it  was  true  that,  coming  to  Christ,  rather  than  the 
Church,  they  were  not  cast  out. 

A  messenger  from  God  visited  him,  evidently, 
and,  again  following  the  practice  of  Jesus,  ad- 
dressed him  by  name,  Cornelius.  He  might  not  be 
baptized.     He  might  be  shut  out  from  the  visible 


144  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Church.  Peter  might  refuse  to  see  him.  But, 
none  the  less,  he  was  registered  in  the  Lamb's  Book 
of  Life.  His  prayers  and  gifts  were  to  the  Al- 
mighty as  mnemonics.  He  need  not  go  to  Peter. 
Peter,  if  sent  for,  would  have  to  come  to  him.  He 
would  have  to  go  down  from  his  roof,  and  pass 
through  the  tannery  and  surrender  his  ecclesiastical 
infallibility. 

Peter's  dream  was  so  clear  that  afterwards  he 
was  able  to  turn  it  into  history.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  he  saw  that  all  living  things,  however 
repugnant,  are  embraced  in  one  divine  purpose, — 
that  nothing  in  this  world  can  be  ignored  whether 
by  faith  or  by  science — since  all  are  included  as  in 
a  sheet  of  which  the  corners  are  gathered  firmly 
by  the  grip  of  God's  hand.  Even  the  creeping 
thing  that  descends  to  earth  from  heaven — conde- 
scends, as  it  were,  to  dwell  among  men, — has  its 
place  in  the  scheme  of  happiness,  and  cannot  be 
properly  overlooked  by  the  eye  at  a  microscope,  or 
by  the  philosopher  at  his  desk.  It  is  only  the 
humble  man  who,  when  heaven  is  opened,  sees  as 
Stephen  saw  the  Highest  there  enthroned.  The 
proud  man  has  first  to  see  in  heaven  those  uncon- 
sidered creatures  whom  in  his  heart  he  has  despised. 

When  Peter  climbed  to  the  roof,  it  did  not  occur 
to  him  that  he  would  be  called  upon  to  rise  still 
higher.  The  last  need  of  which  he  was  conscious 
was  lack  of  dignity.  Yet  what  God  said  to  him  was 
precisely  what  God  had  said  not  long  before  to 
Saul  in  his  humiliation — Rise!  Peter  in  prayer  had 
to  be  as  much  lifted  to  his  feet  as  the  paralytic 
on  his  bed  or  the  lame  man  at  the  Gate  Beautiful. 
For  the  dignity  that  he  lacked  was  the  dignity  of 


THE  VISION  OF  PETER  145 

the  common  round  and  the  daily  task.  He  could 
never  be  the  man  that  he  might  be  until  he  was 
ready  with  cheerful  demeanour  to  kill  and  cook  his 
own  breakfast.  Why  should  sinners  do  the  rough 
work  while  saints  do  the  praying?  Rise,  Peter,  kill 
and  eat!  Be  an  ordinary  mortal  in  ordinary  affairs. 
Have  done  with  asceticism  of  body  as  a  cloak  for 
superiority  of  spirit.  Kill  and  eat — recognize  that 
like  other  men  you  are  dependent  upon  an  ordinary 
diet — that,  like  other  men,  you  are  amenable  to 
natural  law — that  there  is  no  holier  quality  in  your 
feet  and  hands  than  in  theirs, — that,  in  Paul's  words, 
you  and  they  are  linked  by  one  fate  with  the  body 
of  this  death.  It  is  the  declaration  of  a  bond  be- 
tween Jew  and  Gentile,  between  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  between  Black  and  White,  between 
Serbian  and  Bulgarian,  yes,  between  Frenchmen 
and  Germans.  It  is  the  basis  of  modern  biology — 
it  anticipates  evolution.  It  says  for  the  Pagan 
what  Shakespeare  had  to  say  for  Shylock  the  Jew 
that,  before  all  else,  he  is  a  man. 

In  the  perversity  of  our  race,  there  is  a  certain 
splendid  if  obdurate  defiance  of  the  Almighty.  Not 
once  but  thrice  did  Peter  answer  back  when  God 
spoke.  A  curious  suggestion  of  Our  Lord's  divinity 
may  be  found  in  the  very  courage  with  which  this 
apostle,  having  often  argued  with  Jesus  on  earth, 
dared  also  to  argue  with  the  Father  Himself.  It  is 
the  proud  toss  of  the  head  with  which  the  pallid 
yet  unrepentant  aristocrat  steps  to  the  guillotine. 
It  is  the  cool  piety  with  which  the  priest  pours  dis- 
dain on  the  dissenter.  It  is  the  curl  of  the  lip  with 
which  the  man  who  only  attends  opera  watches  the 
crowd  which  only  enjoys  the  movie.     Not  so,  Lord; 


146     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOKGET 

for  I  have  never  eaten  anything  that  is  common  or  un- 
clean. The  assumption  is  that  common  things  must 
be  unclean — the  poem  that  is  oft  quoted  must  be 
hackneyed — the  hymn  that  helps  must  be  bad 
verse — the  picture  which  draws  and  sells  must  be 
bad  art — nothing  can  be  the  best  if  I  have  to  share 
it  with  the  million.  In  Peter's  case,  the  privileges 
of  wealth  had  been  fully  surrendered.  No  longer 
had  he  any  holding  in  the  boats  on  Galilee.  But 
he  clung  the  more  tenaciously  to  the  privileges  of 
caste,  to  clique,  to  the  few  and  the  favoured,  while 
God  was  loving  the  whole  world. 

Three  times  had  he  to  be  taught  his  lesson.  All 
his  life  he  had  been  a  slow  pupil.  In  Peter  was 
revealed  supremely  the  patience  of  Our  Lord.  At 
Gethsemane,  he  was  warned  three  times  of  com- 
ing temptation.  In  the  palace  of  the  High  Priest, 
he  was  offered  three  chances  of  confessing  his 
Master.  Three  times  was  he  told  that  his  duty  as 
Pastor  was  to  feed  Christ's  Sheep.  And  three 
times  here  does  he  learn  that  nothing  of  Christ's  is 
beneath  respect.  So  has  it  been  with  every  genera- 
tion that  has  followed  Peter.  Not  only  in  India 
and  China  and  Japan  are  there  religious  and  heredi- 
tary barriers  to  be  broken  down.  There  is  no 
University — no  system  of  schools — no  navy — no 
army — no  profession — no  trade, — no  social  circle 
where  you  will  not  find  the  inner  and  the  outer  set, 
the  upper  and  the  lower  strata,  the  included  and 
the  excluded.  And  while,  like  Peter,  after  cen- 
turies of  experience,  we  still  doubt  in  ourselves 
what  is  meant  by  our  visions  of  democracy,  be- 
hold— look — men  are  at  the  gate, — standing — 
knocking — asking   to   see   us.     We    are   uncertain 


THE  VISION  OF  PETER  147 

how  to  greet  them.  They  have  interrupted  our 
devotions.  They  may  be  anarchists.  They  may 
be  Bolshevists.  They  may  be  Radicals.  Never 
mind — they  are  men — God  has  sent  them;  sent 
them  not  entirely  because  they  have  as  yet  the  right 
Spirit  within  them,  but  because  they  know  their 
need  of  something,  not  yet  obtained.  Go  down  to 
them,  fearing  nothing. 

The  motto,  God  first,  may  have  suggested  that 
Cornelius  at  Csesarea  ought  to  have  gone  himself 
to  Peter  at  Joppa.  Surely  Peter's  time  was  of  more 
value  than  that  of  any  Roman  centurion.  Was  it 
seemly  that  an  officer  whose  profession  was  war 
should  thus  summon  an  apostle  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace?  The  answer  is  that  Cornelius  was  on  duty 
and  that  all  duty  is  sacred.  The  fact  that  he  was 
responsible  to  pagan  Rome  did  not  make  him  less 
responsible  to  God.  Neither  for  him  nor  for  any 
one  else  is  it  necessary  to  suspend  an  obligation  in 
order  to  reach  the  Redeemer.  By  staying  at  his 
post,  Cornelius  was  able  there  to  gather  kinsmen 
and  near  neighbours  for  the  welcome  which  was  in 
so  marked  a  contrast  to  the  still  hesitating  account 
given  by  Peter  of  his  readiness  to  enter  such  a 
company.  It  was  as  centurion  that  he  could  best 
recommend  Christ,  not  to  Peter's  friends  who  were 
Jews,  but  to  his  own  friends  who  never  went  to 
synagogues  and  places  of  worship. 

The  deputation,  sent  by  Cornelius,  consisted  of 
two  servants  and  a  devout  soldier  who  waited  on 
him  continually.  We  are  told  that  no  man  is  a 
hero  to  his  own  valet,  but  in  this  case  the  closest 
intimacy  with  the  centurion  engendered  the  deep- 
est respect.     It  was  the  soldier  who  saw  most  of 


us  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Cornelius  who  was  readiest  to  adopt  his  religion. 
Presumably,  the  servants  were  civilians,  but  of  the 
soldier  alone  are  we  told  that  he  was  "  devout," 
and  this,  I  think,  shatters  the  theory  that  no  soldier 
can  be  a  Christian.  Peter's  trouble  over  Cor- 
nelius was  not  that.  If  it  had  been,  Cornelius  could 
have  retorted  that  men  of  prayer  were  just  as  much 
to  blame  for  the  death  of  the  Saviour  as  were  men 
of  blood. 

When  the  servants  saw  Peter,  they  met  him  as  an 
equal.  He  became  host  and  they  were  guests. 
AH  the  evening  they  talked.  There  is  a  strange 
ring  in  their  apology,  as  it  were,  for  the  existence 
of  Cornelius, — their  explanation  that  he  was  well 
spoken  of  by  the  Jezvs.  We  can  follow  the  gradual 
persuasion  of  Peter's  mind  that  after  all  he  might 
perhaps  venture  to  shake  hands  even  with  a  Roman 
officer  and  gentleman.  But  he  was  still  reluctant 
to  act  alone.  Where  it  would  have  been  so  simple 
for  him  to  go  as  invited  and  talk  to  Cornelius,  he 
gathered  the  Church  around  him,  chose  a  company 
of  the  faithful  to  walk  with  him,  and,  on  reaching 
Caesarea,  saw  nothing  of  the  centurion  until  first 
he  had  consulted  the  disciples,  there  assembled.  It 
was  as  if  Christ's  lambs  could  only  be  fed  at  a 
Guildh.:n  Banquet. 

So  impressed  was  Cornelius  with  these  pre- 
liminaries that  when  at  last  the  Apostle  approached 
him,  he  fell  at  his  feet  and  Peter  discovered  that 
there  is  a  possibility  of  sacerdotalism  even  in  the 
primitive  Church.  Then,  as  always,  the  true  heart 
of  Peter  leapt  to  a  true  decision.  Stand  up!  said 
he,  /  am  myself  a  man. 

In  that  confession,  Peter  threw  over  the  clerical 


THE  VISION  OF  PETER  149 

costume,  the  special  intonation,  the  form  and  dig- 
nity of  position  which  had  kept  him  apart  from 
wage-earners  and  the  other  professional  classes. 
The  moment  that  he  came  to  them  as  a  man — a 
man  like  themselves— he  found  it  easy  enough  to 
tell  them  of  Christ.  His  address  was  reverent, 
nothing  in  it  was  secular,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
nothing  in  it  was  ecclesiastical.  There  was  not  a 
hint  in  what  he  said  of  Jew  and  Gentile,  of  Apostle, 
Deacon  and  Disciple,  of  rich  and  poor;  Peter  ap- 
pealed to  "  every  nation  " ;  God  was  "  Lord  of  all  " ; 
Jesus  healed  "  all  who  were  oppressed  " ;  preaching 
was  to  be  to  ''the  people";  and  ''whosoever  be- 
Ueveth  in  Him  shall  receive  remission  of  sins." 
The  interesting  feature  of  this  address  is  the  fact 
that  it  is  based  not  upon  the  recent  vision  of  Peter 
but  upon  the  prior  teaching  and  example  of  Our 
Lord  which  Peter  had  forgotten.  In  the  presence 
of  Christ,  our  divisions  simply  disappear.  We 
cannot  think  of  Him  truly  without  loving  uni- 
versally. 

As  that  company  listened,  the  Holy  Ghost  fell  on 
all  who  heard.  Without  rite  or  ceremony,  they 
had  poured  upon  them  what  Peter  himself  found 
to  be  precisely  the  same  Spirit  Who  had  descended 
on  the  apostles.  It  was  not  by  the  hand  of  man 
that  the  Spirit  came,  but  as  a  Gift  direct  from  God. 
Baptism,  which  followed  at  Peter's  suggestion,  was 
a  public  symbol  only  of  the  accompUshed  fact. 

That  Judea  should  object  to  a  blessing  on  the 
Gentiles  is  not  perhaps  wonderful.  Judea  had 
killed  the  Christ.  But  that  the  Apostles  and 
Brethren  in  Judea  should  raise  an  outcry,—"  they 
of  the  circumcision  " — is  perfectly  amazing.     Peter 


150     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

was  summoned  before  the  Church  and  was  put  on 
trial.  Point  by  point,  he  rehearsed  his  vision.  He 
produced  as  witnesses  for  the  defense  the  six  dis- 
ciples who  had  accompanied  him  from  Joppa.  His 
was  a  note  throughout,  not  of  triumphant  assertion 
of  God's  love,  but  of  apology.  God  had  given  the 
Spirit  to  the  Gentiles.  What  was  Peter  that  he 
could  withstand  God?  It  was  as  if  he  had  sug- 
gested that  a  regrettable  event  had  happened  but 
that  Another  was  to  blame. 

What  a  scene  it  was!  An  angry  and  resentful 
Church — an  anxious  and  hesitating  Apostle — and 
outside,  the  seething,  dying,  sinning  human  race. 
For  the  moment,  under  Peter's  influence,  they  held 
their  peace.  Some  even  glorified  God  that  to  the 
Gentiles  also  had  been  granted  a  change  of  mind,  a 
more  abundant  life.  But  the  battle  was  only  post- 
poned. At  Antioch,  it  was  renewed.  It  spread  to 
Galatia.  It  wrecked  Christ's  cause  within  Judaism. 
It  is  an  eternal  warning  against  limiting  His  Salva- 
tion to  any  class,  to  any  race,  to  any  creed,  to  any 
colour. 


XVIII 
THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CHURCH 

BETWEEN  Jerusalem  and  Antioch  there  was 
a  distance  of  400  miles  by  road  and  2,000  years 
in  time.  Of  the  two  cities,  Jerusalem  was,  for  the 
tourist  and  the  pilgrim,  by  far  the  more  fascinating, 
since  there,  as  in  some  famous  cathedral  town,  you 
could  see  noble  edifices,  and  places  of  surpassing 
interest  like  the  Temple,  the  empty  Tomb,  Calvary 
itself.  You  could  even  converse  with  apostles  and, 
at  the  house  of  John,  you  would  be  served  by  the 
very  Mother  of  Our  Lord.  In  the  calendar  of  the 
parent  Church,  one  day  had  been  stained  blood-red 
by  the  death  of  Stephen  and  a  second  day  was 
marked  by  the  martyrdom  of  James.  Thus  early 
was  the  long  tragedy  beginning  which  for  every 
succeeding  century  has  been  suffered  by  eastern 
disciples.  It  is  a  tragedy  repeated  from  time  to 
time  in  Korea  and  Madagascar  and  many  other 
lands.  The  fortitude  of  the  disciples  in  Judea  has 
been  an  inspiration  for  all  who  came  after.  The 
little  garrison  was  weakened  in  numbers,  and  in 
wealth,  but  it  still  held  on.  When  James  was  slain, 
Peter  did  not  flee,  but  went  calmly  to  prison,  and, 
as  he  expected,  to  death. 

Yet  Antioch — though  of  pagan  origin  and  merely 

151 


152     THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

political  importance — was  the  place  where  men  and 
women  were  first  called  Christians.  The  trouble 
with  Jerusalem  was  that  before  the  disciples  were 
Christians,  they  felt  that  they  had  to  be  Jews.  Be- 
tween sects  and  parties  they  drew  elaborate  dis- 
tinctions. They  were  like  those  to-day  who  are 
deeply  conscious  that  Catholics  differ  from  Protes- 
tants. Only  to  the  Jews  and  Jewish  proselytes  did 
the  Judean  Evangelists  preach.  Their  reverence 
for  outworn  things  still  somewhat  obscured  their 
sight  of  the  living  Saviour.  It  was  a  sincere  rever- 
ence yet  it  availed  them  nothing.  The  Judaizers 
did  not  win  the  Jews.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  to 
please  the  Jews  who  were  as  hostile  as  ever  that 
Herod  killed  James  and  in  pleasing  the  Jews  he 
succeeded.  Later  attempts  were  made  to  con- 
ciliate the  irreconcilable  by  persuading  Paul  to 
circumcise  Timothy,  and  himself  to  enter  into 
Mosaic  vows,  but  these  devices  were  equally  futile. 
The  real  danger  was  that  the  disciples  of  Jerusalem, 
in  their  ardour  for  compromise,  might  set  up  the 
Judaism  within  themselves  against  the  supreme 
authority  of  Christ.  They  did  not  see  as  yet  that 
in  Christ  our  traditions  and  our  politics  are  forever 
absorbed.  Antioch  was  otherwise  instructed. 
No  one  could  have  been  a  more  obvious  Hebrew 
than  Saul  of  Tarsus.  In  his  first  reported  sermon, 
at  the  other  Antioch  in  Pisidia,  he  singles  out  his 
fellow-tribesman  of  Benjamin,  Saul,  the  son  of 
Kish,  the  first  King  of  Judah,  for  especial  mention. 
Of  that  ancient  and  historic  association  he  was  ever 
proud.  He  refers  to  it  in  his  letter  to  Philippi. 
But  he  says  there  that  what  things  were  gain  to 
him  by  birth  and  education,  these  he  counted  loss 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CHURCH  163 

for  Christ.  Though  a  Jew,  he  was  ready  to  be  a 
Christian  without  prefix.  Save  the  word  Christian, 
he  discarded  every  label,  and  the  friends  of  Antioch 
followed  his  lead. 

Of  the  rise  of  the  Church  in  Antioch,  Jerusalem 
was  as  unconscious  as  the  average  chapel  in  Europe 
or  America  is  unconscious  of  the  rise  of  the  church 
in  Uganda.  Stray  missionaries  from  Judea  arrived 
in  what  was  the  third  city  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
but  they  were  not  apostles,  and  what  first  con- 
cerned Jerusalem  was  the  disturbing  rumour  that 
people  outside  the  Hebrew  faith  insisted  on  accept- 
ing Christ.  As  Peter  had  investigated  the  some- 
what similar  situation  in  Samaria,  so  Barnabas  was 
sent  to  look  into  this  second  case  of  unauthorized 
revival.  It  seemed  a  long  journey,  far  longer  than 
Joppa,  Csesarea,  or  Galilee.  You  must  go,  they  said, 
as  far  as  Antioch.  We  do  not  know  what  were  the 
views  of  Barnabas  in  theology.  He  is  described 
simply  as  a  good  man.  He  was  full,  not  of  doc- 
trines and  prejudices,  but  of  the  Holy  Spirit — of 
faith — faith  in  God  and  faith  in  his  neighbours. 
By  what  he  saw  at  Antioch,  he  was  in  no  way  dis- 
turbed. If  Gentiles  came  to  Christ,  so  much  the 
better.  Barnabas  had  been  brought  up  in  Cyprus 
and  knew  heathendom  at  close  quarters.  About 
ceremonial,  he  seems  not  to  have  worried  at  all. 
He  said  nothing  about  joining  the  Church.  But 
he  did  say  a  good  deal  about  cleaving  with  all  the 
heart  unto  the  Lord. 

In  leadership,  the  Church  at  Antioch  was  de- 
ficient. Apart  from  Barnabas,  the  only  prophets 
and  teachers  were  three — Simeon  called  Niger,  who 
seems  to  have  been  a  coloured  man  and  is  men- 


154:  THECHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

tioned  first,  Lucius  of  Cyrene,  who  also  came  from 
Africa,  and  Manaen,  called  after  one  of  the  most 
degenerate  Israelite  kings,  who  had  been  himself 
reared  in  the  corrupt  court  of  Herod  Antipas, 
adulterous  husband  of  Herodias  and  murderer  of 
John  the  Baptist.  Under  these  circumstances, 
Barnabas  needed  a  colleague,  yet  although  he  had 
come  from  Jerusalem,  he  did  not  send  there  for 
help.  He  looked  in  the  opposite  direction  and  re- 
membered Saul,  still  living  in  Tarsus.  He  sent  for 
Saul  and  Saul  came. 

Thus  was  the  historic  witness  to  Christ — the 
sight  of  the  eye — reinforced  by  the  witness  of  per- 
sonal experience.  Men  who  had  never  seen  the 
Saviour  could  be  best  won  by  men  who  had  seen 
Him  only  in  faith.  Saul  came  because  by  this  time 
he  was  prepared  in  mind  and  soul.  Having  sat 
once  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  and  with  disastrous 
results,  he  would  never  again  entrust  himself  to  an 
earthly  teacher.  Leaving  Damascus,  he  had  spent 
three  years  in  Arabia,  thinking  things  out  alone, 
unaided  by  the  fathers  or  by  commentaries,  and  no 
mere  listener  to  the  sermons  of  others.  Thus  was 
he  equipped  to  speak  with  authority  and  not  as  the 
scribes.  In  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  promotion  is 
by  merit  only.  As  we  pursue  the  narrative,  we 
find  that  Barnabas  and  Saul  gradually  became  Saul 
and  Barnabas,  while  John  Mark,  for  the  moment, 
dropped  out.  John  Mark  had  also  come  north  from 
Jerusalem  and  his  faihng  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  had  lived  too  long  in  a  Church  that  lacked  the 
missionary  zeal.  His  impulse  was  sound  but  weak. 
It  carried  him  to  Antioch  and  even  to  Cyprus,  but 
not  on  to  the  more  rugged  Asia  Minor.    Barnabas 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CHUKCH  155 

was  prepared  for  Asia  Minor,  but  what  held  him 
back  was  the  claim. of  John  Mark,  who  was  his 
nephew.  Saul  became  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles 
in  preeminence,  because  Saul's  itinerary  was  uncon- 
ditional. 

For  a  year  or  more,  these  men  worked  in  Antioch 
and  with  notable  results.  Everywhere  we  find  a 
constant  desire  to  give.  When  Agabus,  the  prophet 
of  Jerusalem,  came,  and  instead  of  proclaiming 
Christ,  the  Bread  of  Life,  announced  a  bad  harvest 
for  the  whole  world,  the  disciples  of  Antioch, 
equally  threatened  with  others,  thought  only  of 
sending  rehef  to  Judea.  The  reUef  was  carried  by 
Barnabas  and  Saul,  but  we  do  not  read  of  any  ex- 
pression of  gratitude.  The  tender  thanks  which 
Paul  wrote  to  the  Philippians  and  again  to  Phile- 
mon is  on  record  in  Jerusalem's  case,  and  the  two 
almoners  returned  to  Antioch.  It  was  not  until  a 
few  years  later  that  Jerusalem  sent  her  answer. 
When  it  came,  it  created  no  little  stir.  Certain 
men  from  Judea  arrived  in  Antioch  and  told  the  dis- 
ciples there,  who  had  subscribed  the  money,  that 
they  could  not  be  saved  unless  they  were  circum- 
cised. Seldom  surely  has  a  splendid  generosity 
been  rewarded  by  so  harsh  an  excommunication. 
And  it  is  interesting  to  compare  this  with  the  Par- 
thian bolt  which  Peter  levelled  at  Paul — as  told  to 
the  Galatians — that  he  should  remember  the  poor — 
a  thing  that  Paul  had  been  forzvard  to  do! 

Jerusalem  had  her  twelve  apostles;  Antioch  only 
had  her  five  prophets  and  teachers;  yet,  of  these 
five,  it  was  proposed  to  send  two — and  they  were 
the  ablest  two — as  foreign  missionaries.  In  the 
Gospel  itself,  this  Church  was  thus  unselfish.     Hav- 


156     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

ing  emptied  its  pockets  of  money,  it  emptied  its 
pulpits  of  the  most  eloquent  preachers  and  was  con- 
tent to  find  Christ  in  the  second  best.  After  the 
first  missionary  journey,  Saul  and  Barnabas  only 
returned  to  Antioch  to  tell  their  experiences  and 
gather  reinforcements  for  a  second  crusade.  With- 
out their  help,  the  community  continued  its  world- 
wide witness,  and  when  Barnabas  decided  to  settle 
in  Cyprus,  Antioch  released  Silas  to  fill  the  gap  in 
the  firing  line. 

What  drew  together  the  two  bodies  of  disciples 
in  Jerusalem  and  Antioch  was  the  sense  of  a  com- 
mon sacrifice — a  common  suffering,  which  cor- 
rected divergences  of  temperament.  While  Saul 
and  Barnabas  were  in  Jerusalem,  a  terrible  crime 
was  committed.  Over  James  and  John,  the  sons 
of  Zebedee,  there  hung  a  destiny,  as  dreadful  as 
any  ill  doom  of  kings.  They  were  to  drink  that 
cup  to  the  dregs  which  the  Crucified  drained. 
They  were  to  live  for  Him  only  to  die  with  Him. 
And  the  first  to  fall  was  James.  In  Stephen's  case, 
there  was  at  least  a  scene  and  a  trial.  But  James 
was  cut  down  with  a  contemptuous  cynicism — 
merely  as  an  act  of  cool  policy. 

Then,  to.  the  dismay  of  the  faithful,  Peter  was 
arrested  and  flung  into  prison.  Over  him  as  over 
the  sons  of  Zebedee,  there  lay  the  certainty  of  vio- 
lent death.  The  Master  had  foreseen  it.  Horror 
deepened  when  it  was  remembered  that  these  were 
the  days  of  unleavened  bread,  that  Easter  or  Pass- 
over was  pending  and  that  apparently  the  awful 
fate  of  crucifixion,  in  mockery  of  Christ,  awaited 
Christ's  chief  apostle.  Four  quarternions  of  sol- 
diers guarded  Peter  and  to  two  soldiers  was  he 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CHUECH  157 

bound  by  chains.  It  was  the  night  before  the  fatal 
morning  when  he  was  to  be  brought  before  the 
mob,  already  accustomed  to  cry.  Away  with 
him ! 

In  the  glorious  annals  of  discipleship,  there  is  no 
picture  more  sublime  in  its  sense  of  mastery  over 
human  frailty  than  this  of  Peter,  the  impulsive  yet 
timid  follower  of  the  Lord  at  a  distance,  sleeping 
like  a  little  child  in  the  darkness  and  discomfort  of 
that  dungeon.  Before  applying  the  chains  to  his 
wrists,  they  had  allowed  him  to  remove  his  sandals 
and  his  cloak,  and  by  thus  ungirding  himself,  he  had 
shown  to  all  the  world  which  was  to  hear  of  his 
escape,  how  slender  was  his  hope  of  deliverance. 
Between  him  and  safety  lay  three  locked  gates, — 
through  the  first  ward  and  the  second  ward  and  so 
into  the  street,  which  last  gate  was  of  iron.  The 
keepers  of  all  those  gates  were  on  duty,  as  if  to 
prove  that  the  soul  of  man  cannot  be  entombed, 
save  by  the  vigilant  determination  of  man  himself. 
Yet  as  Peter,  on  the  roof  of  the  tannery,  had 
escaped  from  his  thrice-strong  prejudices  and 
walked  forth  to  Csesarea,  a  free  man,  so  was  he  to 
escape  from  the  thrice-strong  walls  of  material 
environment. 

In  industry,  in  diplomacy,  in  war  and  even  in 
games,  we  realize  the  value  of  cooperation.  If  men 
will  only  work  together,  no  despotism,  no  injustice 
can  endure.  The  disciples  at  Jerusalem  met  this 
crisis  with  precisely  this  cooperation  in  prayer. 
As  the  ark  of  the  covenant  was  carried  around  the 
walls  of  Jericho  so  did  these  prayers  arise,  like  a 
besieging  bombardment,  high  above  the  unre- 
sponsive walls  and  gates  of  the  Judean   Bastille. 


158  THE  CHURCH  AVE  FORGET 

Few  if  any  believed  that  the  answer  to  prayer  would 
be  what  it  was.  No  one  was  more  astounded  than 
those  who  prayed  the  most  earnestly,  when  Peter 
actually  appeared,  a  free  man.  They  were  not 
thinking  of  his  escape.  They  did  not  plan  it. 
They  wanted  him  to  endure  to  the  end. 

Peter  knew  and  loved  the  Psalms.  The  angel  of 
the  Lord,  he  had  read,  encampeth  around  them  that  fear 
Him,  and  delivereth  them.  In  fear  of  the  Lord,  rather 
than  of  death,  he  rested  confident.  When  he  felt 
a  blow  on  his  side  and  saw  a  light  in  his  cell,  it. 
seemed  as  if  an  angel  had  indeed  come  to  him. 
The  only  question  in  his  mind  was  whether  the 
angel  was  a  dream,  or  a  waking  reality.  The 
visitant  revealed  at  once  an  intensely  practical  mind. 
Arise  up,  he  said,  quickly!  Resume  your  cloak  and 
sandals.  And  gather  that  garment  about  you  as  you 
follozv  me.  Peter  obeyed — walked  through  those 
dim  corridors  after  that  flickering  lamp — and  still 
wondered  whether  he  saw  a  vision.  At  the  gate, 
the  angel  left  him,  alone  in  the  silent  street,  a 
fugitive  from  injustice. 

Whether  that  angel  be  of  earth  or  heaven,  makes 
little  difference.  Enough  for  us,  that  until  his  work 
is  done,  no  servant  of  God  can  be  bound  by  any 
chain  or  confined  in  any  dungeon.  The  Christ  in 
Peter  could  be  no  more  entombed  by  man  than  the 
God  in  Christ. 

There  he  stood  by  himself,  utterly  dispossessed 
of  his  leadership,  yet  never  so  noble  a  figure  as 
when  stripped  of  his  status  and  dignity.  Thus 
began  what  I  may  call  the  withdrawal  of  Peter — 
his  retirement  from  the  central  position — his 
gradual  journey  to  the  circumference.     What  he 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CHURCH  159 

learnt  when  he  left  the  limelight,  we  shall  see  when 
we  open  the  immortal  letters  with  which  he  en- 
riched the  Church. 

Slowly  he  walked  down  that  street,  wondering 
where  he  should  go.  All  his  landmarks  had  dis- 
appeared, and  he  must  have  assumed  that  his 
friends  would  be  in  bed.  Still  he  thought  he  would 
try  the  house  where  lived  Mary,  the  mother  of 
John,  whose  surname  was  Mark.  He  loved  that 
home,  because  he  had  been  able  there  to  talk  freely 
about  the  life  of  Jesus  upon  earth, — so  freely  that 
John  afterwards  wrote  the  most  vivid  of  all  the  four 
Gospels.     He  found  the  door  shut. 

But  through  the  windows  there  shone  unusual 
lights  and  Peter  heard  the  murmur  of  uninterrupted 
prayer.  At  the  risk  of  their  lives  they  were  pray- 
ing for  him.  He  knocked  at  the  door  and  heard  a 
footstep.  A  girl  named  Rhoda,  or  Rose,  was  on 
the  watch  for  danger  and  she  asked  him,  softly,  who 
he  was.  She  knew  at  once  the  tone  of  Peter's 
voice.  No  apostle  ever  received  so  undesigned  a 
tribute  of  gratitude  as  Peter  did,  when  that  simple 
maidservant,  for  very  gladness  over  his  arrival,  ran 
to  the  prayer  meeting  to  tell  her  news,  before  first 
letting  Peter  enter.  If  the  weakness  of  this  man 
was  his  ecclesiasticism,  his  strength  was  his  sym- 
pathy with  the  poor  and  unlearned.  The  great 
apostle  and  patriarch  could  win  for  Christ  the 
heart  and  will  of  a  damsel,  whose  only  life  was 
housework. 

Rhoda  was  greeted  with  irritation  and  in- 
credulity. To  break  up  a  prayer  meeting,  as  she 
did,  was  hysterical  and  improper.  To  pray  was 
right;  to  receive  an  answer  to  prayer  was  madness. 


160     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

The  disciples  attached  much  more  importance  to 
what  they  said  to  God  than  to  what  God  did  to 
them.  Rhoda's  task  of  earning  her  Uvelihood  pre- 
vented her  going  to  many  prayer  meetings  and  her 
creed  was  merely  what  she  found  of  Christ  and  His 
Church  in  her  daily  occupation.  Of  that  much  she 
was  certain  and  she  constantly  affirmed  it.  Scholars 
and  critics  might  say  what  they  liked — they  might 
deny  this  or  that  authorship — they  might  challenge 
this  or  that  date — but  Rhoda  still  protested  that 
Peter  stood  at  the  gate  and  that  she  knew  his  voice. 

Then  the  spiritualists  came  forward  with  their 
theory.  Substituting  theosophy  for  theology — 
that  is  the  assumed  wisdom  which  God  has  kept  to 
Himself  for  the  actual  wisdom  which  He  has 
uttered — they  declared  that  Peter  had  been  turned 
into  an  angel.  That  God  could  do  wonderful 
things,  they  thus  fully  believed,  only  they  thought 
that  the  wonderful  things  must  be  distinct  some- 
how from  human  experience.  Flesh  might  become 
spirit  but  doors  must  remain  locked. 

The  one  plain  fact  was  that  Peter  kept  on  knock- 
ing. Every  one  in  the  house,  whatever  his  theory 
of  miracles,  could  hear  those  resounding  blows. 
They  have  not  yet  ceased.  After  the  lapse  of  cen- 
turies, Peter  insists  upon  escaping  from  the  prison 
of  neglect  and  oblivion  and  making  himself  and 
God's  goodness  to  him  known  among  all  men.  On 
the  one  hand,  his  tale  sounds  ridiculous.  On  the 
other  hand  his  knuckles  are  actual.  You  leave 
Peter  outside  in  the  dark,  unseen,  his  cloak  around 
him,  but  you  do  not  get  rid,  either  of  him  or  of  his 
message. 

He  was  no  magician.     Although  he  had  escaped 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  CHUKCH  161 

through  three  prison  walls,  past  four  quarternions 
of  soldiers,  from  chains  and  a  dungeon,  he  could 
not  of  himself  open  that  one  wicket  gate,  kept  by  a 
girl.  Yet  the  longer  he  waited,  the  more  over- 
whelming became  the  proof  that  he  was  there. 
Not  the  girl  alone,  but  the  entire  company  ulti- 
mately assembled  to  welcome  him  and  express 
astonishment.  He  beckoned  with  the  hand. 
Astonishment  is  not  enough.  Religion  demands  un- 
derstanding as  well  as  wonder.  They  should  know 
that  it  was  the  Lord  Who  brought  the  Apostle  out 
of  the  prison,  and  they  should  tell  this  to  others — 
to  James — to  the  brethren.  No  longer  was  it 
James,  the  son  of  Zebedee.  He  had  died  the  death. 
We  now  read  of  James,  who  as  brother  of  the  Lord 
in  the  flesh,  failed  to  believe  on  Him,  but  was  con- 
vinced by  His  risen  Spirit. 

Peter  then  departed.  His  very  message  to  James 
was  an  abdication.  He  settled  in  Caesarea.  He 
lived  as  neighbour  to  Cornelius.  But  he  had  to 
live  in  hiding.  He  was  a  hunted  man.  The  sol- 
diers who  had  let  him  slip  lay  slain.  Herod  was 
seeking  for  the  refugee.  With  his  mouth  closed 
and  his  mission  destroyed,  Peter  renewed  that  won- 
derful intimacy  with  the  Redeemer  which  was  to 
yield  unto  future  generations  his  subsequent  writ- 
ings. 


XIX 
THE  FIRST  ORGANIZED  MISSION 

IN  every  community,  whether  it  be  Church  or 
State,  there  come  at  rare  intervals  what  Mr. 
Gladstone  called  the  golden  moments,  when  life 
runs  rhythmic  as  a  balanced  wheel,  revolving 
swiftly  yet  silently  on  its  axis.  To  such  a  noble 
adjustment  of  their  activities  had  the  disciples  at 
Antioch  now  arrived.  Their  lives  each  day  were 
devoted  to  three  associated  objects — first,  prayer 
or  the  yearning  for  best  things;  secondly,  minister- 
ing or  service,  which  means  the  doing  of  immediate 
things;  and  thirdly,  fasting,  which  is  the  sacrifice 
of  pleasant  or  desirable  things.  Put  it  another 
way — they  cherished  ideals;  they  accomplished 
work;  and  they  made  gifts.  Yet  they  were  still 
conscious  of  a  divine  discontent.  In  every  true 
life  there  is  always  the  something  to  be  attained. 
Many  Churches  have  proceeded  to  a  more  elaborate 
theology,  a  more  ornate  ritual,  a  more  dignified 
fabric.  Satisfied  with  the  fullness  of  Christ,  these 
saints  of  Antioch  only  aimed  at  sharing  with  others 
what  they  themselves  now  enjoyed.  To  speed  the 
Gospel,  not  to  explain  or  complicate  it  or  reduce  it 
to  a  code  was  their  object. 

The  Holy  Ghost  inspired  in  their  people  a  sense 
of  proportion.  They  realized  that  their  Church 
was  only  one  part  of  a  larger  scheme,  of  which  God 
reserved  unto  Himself  the  plan.     In  the  hearts  of 

162 


THE  FIRST  ORGANIZED  MISSION       163 

Barnabas  and  Saul,  the  claim  of  God  was  ringing 
loudly — not  as  a  whisper  or  hint  or  idea  but  as  a 
call.     At  first,  the  Church  was  loath  to  let  them  go. 
And  as  long  as  it  was  thought  that  the  decision  lay 
between    the   impulses   of   the   two   men   and   the 
wishes  of  their  friends,  no  decision  was  taken.     But 
the  time  came  when  everybody  in  the  Assembly 
heard  the  Voice— clearly— as  a  challenge— 5e/?ara/e 
unto  me  Barnabas  and  Saul  for  the  zvork  zvhereunto  I 
have  called  them.     It  meant  that  in   the  ultimate 
reckoning  these   disciples  did   not   belong   to   the 
visible    Church,— the    ecclesiastical    authority   was 
not  to  be  their  final  arbiter— no  vow  of  obedience 
was  to  be  taken  save  to  the  Almighty  Himself.     It 
was   a   pronouncement   for   all    time   that    God   is 
Supreme  over  the  Church  and  over  every  member 
of   the    Church.     His    prerogative   transcends   the 
outlook   of   the    Church.     If   God's   will   demands 
separation  from  the  Church,  then,  in  such  separa- 
tion or  schism,  there  is  no  sin,  or  offense.     That 
separation   at   Antioch   includes   all    the   Western 
Christianity  that  has  arisen  out  of  it — Methodism, 
the  Baptists,  the  Quakers,  the  Evangelicals  of  every 
sect  and  communion.     The   future  of  the  dissent 
inaugurated  by  Saul  and  Barnabas  was  entirely  un- 
defined.    Beyond  Seleucia,  a  few  miles  down  the 
River  Orontes,  that  future  was  all  unknown.     Yet 
on  the  heads  of  the  dissenters  or  separatists  the 
Church  laid  hands.     No  parochial  system  was  ap- 
plied to  restrain  their  preaching.    And  one  can  only 
make  the  comment  that  if  the  CathoHcism  of  Rome 
had  treated  WycliiYe  and  Luther  and  Calvin  and 
Huss  as  the  disciples  treated  Barnabas  and  Saul,  if 
the  Episcopacy  of  England  had  thus  treated  the 


164     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Wesleys  and  Fox,  how  different  might  have  been 
the  story  of  mankind  during  the  last  five  centuries. 

As  David  selected  stones  from  the  brook  and 
fitted  one  in  his  sling  and  whirled  that  sling  in 
circles  about  his  head  and  then  at  the  appointed 
time  released  the  missile  which  sped  straight  to  the 
mark,  so  did  these  disciples  select  their  messengers 
to  go  forth  alone,  unto  the  regions  beyond.  The 
risks  were  obvious.  There  was  no  guarantee  that 
the  missionaries  would  preach  the  pure  faith  with- 
out wavering.  All  was  entrusted  to  the  Holy — or 
Right — Spirit  which  animated  them.  They  were 
to  accept  the  same  responsibility  for  the  honour  of 
the  disciples  as  any  Christian  merchant  of  Antioch 
who  went  down  town  to  Seleucia  to  dispatch  a 
cargo  for  Cyprus  by  that  same  ship  on  which 
Barnabas  and  Saul  embarked. 

Christ,  as  a  wise  strategist,  had  told  His  apostles 
that  they  must  preach  the  Gospel  first  at  Jerusalem, 
Samaria  and  in  Galilee,  before  proceeding  to  dis- 
tant lands.  They  were  to  begin  with  a  familiar 
sphere  of  work.  Saul,  born  and  bred  on  the  Main- 
land of  Asia  Minor,  had  already  uttered  his  testi- 
mony in  Tarsus.  But  Barnabas  came  from  Cyprus, 
as  did  his  sister's  son,  John  Mark,  and  it  was  to 
Cyprus  therefore  that  the  little  party  first  made 
their  way.  Yet  neither  here  nor  in  Tarsus  did  the 
relatives  of  the  missionary  render  any  assistance. 
Barnabas  had  sold  his  estates  and  given  away  the 
money,  but  the  neighbours  were  not  impressed. 
Doubtless  it  was  a  good  thing  that  no  question  of 
landlord  and  tenant  was  intruded  upon  the  direct 
preaching  of  the  Gospel.  Barnabas  was  a  suitable 
ambassador  of  Him,  Who  though  He  was  rich,  yet 


THE  FIRST  ORGANIZED  MISSION*      165 

for  our  sakes  became  poor.  But  in  this  island 
which  was  the  very  Klondyke  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean— men  knew  that  they  could  not  be  re- 
deemed by  corruptible  things  such  as  silver  and 
gold.  The  economic  solution  was  not  enough  to 
secure  human  happiness.  Nor  was  domestic  af- 
fection comparable  with  the  love  of  God.  The  last 
to  believe  on  Christ  were  His  brethren  in  the  flesh. 
The  call  of  family  which  drew  John  Mark  to 
Cyprus  carried  him  not  one  yard  beyond  the  com- 
panionship of  family.  He  was  ready  to  take  holy 
orders,  provided  that  he  might  settle  down  in  the 
family  living.  But  the  wilds  of  Galatia — the  grind- 
ing environment  of  the  East  End  or  an  East  Side 
Curacy — were  too  much  for  him,  just  then.  He 
returned  to  Jerusalem. 

In  Cyprus  and  the  other  places  visited  by  Paul, 
there  were  usually  synagogues,  where  every  week 
good  and  reverent  people  met  regularly  for  wor- 
ship. Not  one  verse  of  the  Bible  did  they  leave  un- 
read. Not  one  prophecy  of  the  Messiah  did  they 
overlook.  Nor  had  they  then  endorsed  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  Son  of  Man  by  Jerusalem.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  were  prepared  as  a  rule  to  hear  of  Him. 
In  addressing  the  Jews  of  Pisidia,  Paul  did  not  bring 
those  charges  of  personal  responsibility  which 
Peter  and  Stephen  levelled  at  the  Hebrews  of 
Judea.  To  each  province  and  city,  Christ  was 
freely  offered,  as  an  unspoilt  and  acceptable  Re- 
deemer, and  each  province,  each  city  wrote  on  the 
pages  of  time  its  own  verdict.  If  Iconium  and  the 
second  Antioch  and  Derbe  and  Lystra  are  to-day 
scarcely  known  to  fame,  it  is  because  they  en- 
tombed, not  the  Body  of  Christ  but  His  Spirit. 


166     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

There  was  not,  after  all,  such  great  difference  be- 
tween those  ancient  synagogues  and  our  modern 
churches.  The  Jews  of  those  days  sincerely 
wanted  a  Messiah  as  we  do,  and  believed  He  would 
come,  but,  for  some  deep  human  reason,  these  com- 
munities, when  offered  the  Messiah  Who  did  come, 
were  tempted  one  after  the  other  to  refuse  Him. 
They  looked  for  a  Son  of  David;  they  found  a  Son 
of  Man;  and,  for  a  Son  of  Man  they  were  unpre- 
pared. They  declined  a  salvation  in  which  they 
were  partakers  of  all  men's  sins  and  sharers  of  all 
men's  pardon.  Yet  no  other  Salvation  than  this 
was  offered.  In  Christ,  irrevocably,  all  the  ancient 
monopolies  of  religion  and  wealth  and  art  and 
society  are  destroyed  and  in  exchange  we  are  of- 
fered only  Himself. 

The  synagogue  was  by  no  means  a  moribund  in- 
stitution. Slowly  but  surely,  Judaism  was  advanc- 
ing. Many  a  Gentile  was  admitted  as  proselyte  to 
the  household  of  Abraham.  But  the  yoke  under 
which  the  convert  had  to  pass  was  ecclesiastical,  not 
personal ;  social,  not  individual ;  a  rite,  not  an  experi- 
ence; circumcision,  not  repentance;  a  surrender  to 
the  Church,  not  a  surrender  to  the  Lord.  It  was 
like  the  baptism  enforced  wholesale  on  the  Moors 
in  Spain, — a  thing  of  the  body,  not  a  change  of  the 
heart.  In  Christ,  the  yoke  of  circumcision  was 
abolished;  the  religious  test  was  cancelled;  any 
man  could  come  to  Him  at  any  time  and  in  any 
place  and  by  any  road.  It  was  this  glorious  liberty 
of  the  children  of  God  that  aroused  in  the  Jews 
such  furious  hatred. 

If  no  conflict  was  provoked  in  Cyprus,  it  was  be- 
cause the  Judaism  that  there  met  the  missionaries 


THE  FIRST  ORGANIZED  MISSION       167 

had  been  corrupted  into  the  sorceries  of  a  pervert. 
A  Hebrew  called  Bar-Jesus — son  or  professor  of 
salvation — had  imposed  his  practices  upon  Sergius 
Paulus  himself,  the  deputy  of  the  island.  In  the  in- 
fluence of  this  scoundrel  v^e  can  see  hov^  even  a 
far-sighted  Roman  statesman  knew  that  the  polit- 
ical system  of  his  Empire  lacked  the  materials  for 
happiness  which  were  held  somehow  in  the  hands 
of  the  Israehtes.  Bar-Jesus  had  offered  false  doc- 
trine, but  the  deputy,  hearing  of  other  Jews  who 
preached,  was  anxious  to  receive  a  second  and  more 
hopeful  message.  Between  Paul  and  Bar-Jesus 
there  followed  a  deadly  conflict  for  the  soul  of  that 
Gentile  ofhcial. 

The  false  or  unorthodox  Jew  was  already  an  in- 
ternational figure.  Bar-Jesus  was  quite  wilHng  to 
use  a  Gentile  name  hke  Elymas.  He  is  the  first  of 
that  Jewish  class,  never  more  powerful  than  to-day, 
which  has  forsworn  Moses  without  receiving 
Christ.  He  is  the  original  Bolshevist.  Coining 
false  money,  preaching  false  economics,  he  works 
by  subtlety.  The  typhus  and  famine  that  dog  his 
footsteps  show  what  mischief  he  perpetrates.  As 
child  of  the  devil,  father  of  lies,  he  deceives  those 
who  trust  him.  He  is  enemy  of  the  right.  He  is 
indeed  leader  of  a  crusade,  but  it  is  his  own  crusade, 
and  between  him  and  those  who  live  and  die  with 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  there  is  nothing  of  any  kind  in 
common.  He  takes  the  way  of  the  Lord,  the  up- 
ward progress  of  mankind — he  takes  that  way  and 
he  perverts  it.  Hence  the  mist  and  darkness  that 
fall  on  him — the  inability  to  get  anywhere — the 
need  for  outside  help  and  guidance.  It  was  not 
only  the  orthodoxy  of  Saul  that  went  blind.     The 


168     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

unorthodoxy  of  Bar-Jesus  was  not  less  blind.  Both 
Saul  and  Bar-Jesus  had  to  be  led  like  children  by 
the  hand.  Indeed,  it  was  the  orthodox  man  who, 
of  the  two,  first  saw  Christ,  and  walked  with  Him 
furthest. 

At  the  second  and  smaller  Antioch  in  Pisidia,  the 
issue  with  historic  Judaism  was  fairly  joined.  Be- 
tween Christ  and  Moses,  no  Elymas  the  Sorcerer 
intervened.  In  Paul's  sermon,  we  can  detect  at 
once  the  humility  of  his  mind  and  the  power  of  the 
Spirit.  This  greatest  thinker  of  the  early  Church 
was  ready  at  Antioch  to  repeat,  point  by  point,  the 
general  argument  of  Stephen  on  the  annals  of  the 
Jewish  people,  and  of  Peter,  on  the  Resurrection. 
In  temperament,  no  three  men  have  ever  been  born 
more  diverse  than  Peter,  Paul  and  Stephen.  But  in 
their  message  no  men  could  have  been  more  united. 
The  value  of  preaching  is  to  be  determined  by  what 
the  man  in  the  pew  makes  his  own  and  tells  to 
others.  Here  we  see  that  those  references  to  the 
Psalms  which  Peter  introduced — those  narratives 
of  the  v/ilderness  and  kingdom  which  Stephen  re- 
counted— were  finding  Saul  of  Tarsus,  were  grip- 
ping him,  were  conquering  him. 

In  the  Levant,  Pisidia  corresponded  to  the  wild 
and  remote  west.  The  arrival  of  strangers  was  an 
event.  Into  the  synagogue  where  Paul  spoke,  the 
Gentiles,  uninvited,  came.  From  beginning  to  end 
of  his  sermon,  Paul  did  not  address  one  single  word 
directly  to  them.  It  was  Christ  for  Israel,  for  the 
children  of  Abraham, — Christ,  the  sure  mercies  of 
David  that  he  proclaimed.  But  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, a  strange  thing  happened.  The  Jews,  as  was 
their  custom,  walked  away.     The  Gentiles  stayed 


THE  FIRST  ORGANIZED  MISSION       169 

behind.  The  men  nearest  Christ  were  found  to  be, 
not  the  men  of  highest  privilege  but  the  men  of 
deepest  need. 

What  they  proposed  was,  literally,  a  revolution. 
Preach  these  zvords  to  its,  said  these  Gentiles,  break 
dozvn  privilege.  Universalize  the  chance  of  happiness. 
It  was  a  new  and  challenging  situation,  and  in  meet- 
ing it,  the  Jews  and  proselytes  were  divided.  You 
had  progressives  who  were  interested  enough  to 
join  the  Gentiles.  You  had  reactionaries  who 
went  home.  For  the  moment,  however,  the  multi- 
tude was  unanimous.  The  mob  of  Paris,  storm- 
ing Versailles  and  claiming  the  King,  was  not  more 
dramatic  to  witness  than  this  mob  of  Antioch, 
storming  the  synagogue  and  claiming  the  Christ. 
It  was  the  first  outbreak  of  irrepressible  Lollardy, 
Methodism,  Brotherhood. 

That  multitude,  thronging  the  old  and  exclusive 
and  respectable  place  of  worship,  was  doubtless 
motley  and  unclean  to  look  upon.  The  neglected 
masses  of  Antioch  in  Pisidia  were  a  no  more  lovely 
sight  than  the  neglected  masses  of  a  modern  city 
and  their  presence  in  the  Church  outraged  the 
proprieties  of  the  regular  pewholders.  If  the  syna- 
gogue had  been  empty,  it  was  because  the  wor- 
shippers, if  their  hearts  were  searched,  did  not  want 
it  to  be  thus  crowded  with  the  lame,  the  halt,  and 
the  blind.  The  terrible  prejudice  still  cherished 
against  the  Jews  is  explained  by  their  attitude  at 
Antioch  and  other  towns  towards  the  Gentile 
democracy.  If  the  Jew  had  said  that  he  disbelieved 
his  prophets,  if  he  had  repudiated  his  Bible  and 
forsworn  its  promises,  his  case  would  have  been 
less  desperate.     But,  on  that  very  Sabbath,  he  had 


iro     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

been  reading  the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  With 
courageous  tact,  Paul  had  put  his  points  in  the  very 
words  of  Scripture  and  had  quoted  the  warning 
against  those  who  despise  God's  work  in  their  own 
day  amongst  their  own  fellow-men.  In  pleading 
for  the  Gentiles  he  based  himself,  not  on  the  words 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  which  were  recent,  but  on  the 
words  of  Isaiah,  which  were  already  known  to  be 
eternal.  The  sin  of  Judaism  was  not  that  they  re- 
jected Christ  only,  but  that  in  order  to  reject  Him, 
in  order  to  despise  His  humbler  brethren,  they  were 
false  to  themselves.  And,  for  this  reason,  history 
has  not  acquitted  and  cannot  yet  acquit  this  nation. 
The  Jew,  who,  reading  his  Old  Testament,  still 
ignores  the  risen  Christ,  is  in  exactly  the  same  posi- 
tion as  the  Christian  who,  reading  both  Testaments, 
sees  not  the  further  coming  among  men  of  Christ 
ascended.  As  the  mediaeval  man  hated  the  tradi- 
tional Jew,  who  had  stood  between  him  and  the 
Saviour,  so  will  the  modern  man  hate  the  traditional 
Christian,  if  he  stands  between  him  and  the  Christ 
of  To-day.  The  hostility  to  many  of  our  Churches 
is  not  different  in  essence  from  the  hostility  mani- 
fested by  Paul  and  the  people  towards  the  syna- 
gogue when  they  cried — "  We  turn  to  the  Gen- 
tiles !  "  It  may  be  that  from  the  pulpits  to  the 
forums,  the  brotherhoods,  the  labour  unions,  the 
rotary  clubs,  we  shall  see  Christ's  ambassadors 
turning,  in  this  our  day.  When  Paul  wrote — Hozv 
shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great  Salvation? — He 
was  writing  not  to  Jews  alone  but  to  all  men  of  all 
time. 

The  Jews  had  been  able  to  kill  Christ  Incarnate. 
But  against  Christ  risen,  they  could  make  no  head- 


THE  FIRST  ORGANIZED  MISSION       171 

way.  Men  filled  with  envy  were  outmatched  at 
every  point  by  men  filled  with  Joy  and  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Driven  from  Antioch,  the  missionaries 
proceeded  to  Iconium.  Driven  from  Iconium,  they 
went  to  Derbe  and  Lystra.  Like  the  flakes  of  a 
great  rolling  snowball,  their  pursuers  grew  in  num- 
bers. Good  women,  who  believed  that  mere  devo- 
tion means  righteousness,  were  stirred  up  by  the 
men  and  stirred  up  others.  Never  was  there  in 
that  region  such  a  hue  and  cry.  But  where  the 
Christians  won  was  in  their  perseverance.  A  lie 
cannot  endure  because  it  does  not  last  as  long  as 
truth  which  is  everlasting.  And  the  malice  that 
assailed  the  disciples  came  to  nothing  because,  in 
malice,  there  is  no  quality  of  the  Eternal.  Paul  and 
Barnabas  fled  for  their  lives.  At  Iconium,  the 
stones  actually  stunned  Paul  and  he  was  dragged 
out  of  the  city  unconscious.  But  these  missionaries 
only  sought  refuge  in  distance,  because  they  wished 
to  return  into  the  danger  zone.  On  their  way 
home  again,  they  did  not  hurry  through  Iconium 
and  Lystra  and  Pisidia.  Calmly,  they  revisited  the 
disciples,  strengthened  them  with  the  example  of 
their  own  fortitude  and  warned  them  that  tribula- 
tion levels  the  road  which  leads  to  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  Where  preaching  the  Gospel  had  been  the 
task,  they  now,  having  sown  the  seed,  gathered  the 
harvest.  Each  society  of  the  faithful  was  organized 
under  a  committee  of  chosen  elders.  Each  was 
commended,  not  to  man,  not  to  pulpits,  patriarchs 
or  prelates,  but  to  God,  in  Whom,  rather  than  in 
Paul  and  Barnabas,  the  latest  disciples  must  put 
their  trust. 


XX 

OLD   CONFLICTS   WITH   NEW 

THE  best  way  to  understand  the  strange  old 
quarrel  in  the  early  Church  between  circum- 
cision, as  they  called  one  party,  and  uncircum- 
cision,  is  to  read  one's  newspaper.  There  we  find 
that  in  every  community  we  come  across  two  kinds 
of  people — variously  labelled  as  Conservatives  and 
Liberals,  Catholics  and  Protestants,  Royalists  and 
Rebels, — those  who  cling  to  the  old  and  those  who 
reach  forth  to  grasp  the  new.  The  march  of  history 
is  a  parade  in  which  the  rank  and  file  seldom  keep 
step,  and  in  every  age,  circumcision  and  uncircum- 
cision,  both  claiming  Christ  yet  each  warring  on  the 
other,  have  threatened  the  unity  of  the  Church.  In 
Palestine,  the  Lord  was  risen  indeed.  His  Spirit 
was  shed  abroad  in  men's  hearts — yet  at  the  Tem- 
ple in  Jerusalem  and  in  every  Jewish  Synagogue, 
the  ancient  worship  continued  in  the  ancient  way  on 
the  ancient  Sabbath.  Instead  of  opening  a  new 
week,  a  new  era,  these  services  were  still  held  on 
Saturday,  which  closed  the  old  week.  They  dwelt 
on  the  past  rather  than  on  the  future.  They  ap- 
pealed to  older  men  like  Peter  but  not  to  younger 
men  Hke  Timothy  and  Titus. 

In   those   birth   pangs   of   a   modern   faith,   the 
Church  was  nearly  rent  asunder.   Between  Peter  and 

172 


OLD  CONFLICTS  WITH  NEW  173 

Paul,  and  even  between  Paul  and  Barnabas,  there 
were  sharp  words.  Here  in  this  twentieth  century, 
we  can  catch  the  echoes  of  that  eternal  controversy. 
Peter  finds  Christ  at  the  altar,  listens  to  Him  in  the 
Latin  language,  reads  of  Him  in  seven-point  dis- 
courses and  seventy-volume  commentaries.  Paul 
finds  Him  in  the  hut  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  under  the 
flag  of  the  Salvation  Army,  and  between  the  pages 
of  a  pocket  Testament. 

There  was  no  obvious  reason  why  any  quarrel  at 
all  should  have  arisen.  Paul  and  Barnabas  were 
living  quietly  at  Antioch.  All  they  said  was  that 
God  had  opened  unto  the  Gentiles  a  door  of  faith. 
This  meant  that  the  children  of  men,  so  long  and  so 
sadly  estranged  from  their  Father,  were  coming 
home  again  and  lifting  the  unfamiliar  latch.  Such 
being  the  position,  nothing  was  required  of  Jeru- 
salem except  that  Jerusalem  should  mind  her  own 
business.  Unfortunately,  as  Paul  told  the  Gala- 
tians,  Jerusalem  resembled  Mount  Sinai,  a  place  of 
laws  not  love,  rooted  there  in  the  deserts  of  Arabia, 
where  the  apostle  had  spent  three  years,  without 
discovering  in  those  thunders  one  spark  of  hope  for 
us  helpless  and  erring  mortals.  The  idea  of  Jeru- 
salem was  that  everybody  should  ''  conform.'* 
They  wanted  men  and  women  to  be  Christians,  but 
only  under  lock  and  key, — call  it  circumcision,  bap- 
tism, confessional,  what  you  will.  Unless  ye  be  cir- 
cumcised, said  they,  ye  cannot  he  saved. 

Now  Christ  never  said  that.  His  word  was  not 
— Ye  must  he  horn  alike — but  ye  must  he  born  again — 
anew — afresh.  If  there  are  differences  among  peo- 
ple, born  in  the  flesh,  so  there  will  be  differences 
among  people,  born  of  the  Spirit.     The  Gentiles  ac- 


174  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

cepted  Christ  as  the  fulfillment  not  of  Moses  only, 
but  of  Socrates,  of  Islam,  of  Buddha,  of  Confu- 
cius,— as  one  who  turned  bad  Greeks  and  Hindus 
and  Chinese  and  Americans  and  English,  into  good 
English  and  Americans  and  Chinese  and  Hindus 
and  Greeks.  Many  of  the  Jews  saw  the  Christ  only 
as  the  Light  of  Judea — they  had  yet  to  see  Him  as 
the  Light  of  the  World.  They  knew  and  loved  Him 
as  the  Christ  of  an  ordered  and  upright  middle  class. 
They  rejected  Him  as  the  Christ  of  the  lumber 
camp  and  labour  union  and  forum  and  brotherhood 
— I  dare  scarcely  add,  of  the  Soviet.  Men  and 
women,  so  they  thought,  must  repeat  the  creed,  at- 
tend the  mass,  sign  the  pledge,  submit  to  authority, 
and  so  supplement  or  fortify  Christ's  salvation.  In 
resisting  the  Judeans,  Paul  was  fighting  for  per- 
sonal liberty — for  initiative — for  individuality  in 
education.  He  was  asserting  the  rights  of  the  soul 
against  the  power  of  the  majority — of  conscience 
against  aggression — of  small  peoples  against  great 
empires, — of  Democracy  against  Prussianism. 

No  nation  has  yet  heard  of  Christ  without  refus- 
ing some  part  of  His  fullness.  Not  only  at  Calvary 
but  all  day  long,  are  Christ  and  His  love  slain 
among  men.  Those  very  Jews,  who  wished  to  cir- 
cumcise other  disciples  and  so  usi:rp  Christ's  mas- 
tership, were  the  men  who  in  past  years  had  helped 
to  kill  Him.  Each  country,  therefore,  which  be- 
comes Christian  in  name,  and  each  generation 
should  pray  that  other  countries  and  succeeding 
generations  may  surpass  its  own  vision  of  the  Re- 
deemer. It  is  not  the  key  of  Ceremonial  that  makes 
hard  the  gateway  into  life.  If  there  be  few  that 
find  it,  the  reason  is  that  the  gateway  is  narrow. 


OLD  CONFLICTS  WITH  NEW  175 

To  enter,  you  must  leave  much  behind.     And  es- 
pecially the  burdens. 

It  is  true  that  on  a  famous  occasion,  the  Lord 
granted  unto  Peter  the  power  of  the  keys.  But  the 
very  fact  that  Peter,  of  all  men, — so  wayward,  so 
impulsive,  so  talkative, — was  thus  honoured,  means 
that,  given  the  conditions,  the  honour  is  universal. 
No  one  can  truly  worship  Christ  as  Lord,  which 
Peter  did,  save  by  the  Spirit,  and  every  Spiritual 
man  becomes  a  king  and  a  priest,  who  discerns  the 
true  destinies  of  mankind.  But  when  Peter  or  when 
any  one  of  us  acts  without  the  Spirit,  we  become, 
like  Peter,  comparable  with  Satan  himself.  It  is  an 
evil  thing  to  deny,  from  whatever  motives,  as  Peter 
denied,  the  need  for  Christ's  atonement.  It  is  an 
evil  thing  to  limit  Christ's  love  for  all  men.  The 
struggle  for  a  boundless  gospel  did  not  end  with  the 
crisis  between  Antioch  and  Jerusalem.  It  is  inher- 
ent in  our  human  nature.  It  broke  out  again  in 
Galatia.  We  hear  of  it  even  in  Philadelphia.  There 
on  the  confines  of  heathendom  were  men  who 
wanted  to  tell  the  good  news  throughout  Asia 
Minor.  But— fifty  years  after  the  Christ  had  suf- 
fered— the  Jews  forbade  them  and  were  denounced 
by  the  angel  of  the  Church,  in  words  that  recall  Our 
Lord's  denunciation  of  Peter,  as  a  synagogue  of 
Satan.  What  God  shuts,  said  the  angel,  no  one  can 
open;  and  what  God  opens,  no  one  can  shut.  His  pre- 
rogative is  absolute. 

The  disturbers  who  came  from  Jerusalem  doubt- 
less considered  that  they  were  persons  of  im- 
portance but  their  names  are  not  mentioned.  When 
one  thinks  of  what  Christ  has  been  to  the  world, 
these  two  thousand  years,  what  hearts  He  has 


176     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

healed,  what  pain  He  has  soothed,  what  hopes  He 
has  inspired,  one  realizes  how  little  those  mattered 
who  wanted  to  reduce  His  Cause  to  the  narrow 
bounds  of  an  obscure  Jewish  sect.  They  were 
critics  only,  who  allowed  themselves  no  time  or 
**  strength  to  lay  those  foundation  stones  in  the  city 
of  God  on  which  are  graven  the  names  of  builders. 
Probably  their  intervention  delayed  Paul's  second 
missionary  tour  by  many  months.  The  Judaizers 
were  wrong,  but  they  had  to  be  answered.  The 
Church  must  learn  wisdom,  not  by  edict  and  law 
laid  down,  but  by  persuasion  and  ready  consent. 
Even  for  mischief  makers,  there  could  be  no  com- 
pulsion, and  the  greater,  therefore,  was  the  respon- 
sibility of  those  who  made  the  mischief.  They 
could  not  waste  their  own  lives  without  using  up 
other  lives,  perhaps  more  valuable. 

Hence  the  severity  with  which  Paul  blamed  John 
Mark.  It  was  from  him  that  the  disciples  at  Jeru- 
salem had  heard  of  the  foreign  mission  in  Cyprus 
and  Pisidia.  John  was  a  fascinating  man.  As  a 
good  son,  he  lived  with  his  mother,  now  getting  on 
in  years.  A  brilliant  writer,  he  listened  eagerly  to 
every  reminiscence  of  the  Redeemer,  of  Whom  he 
has  left  us  perhaps  the  most  vigorous  of  all  the  four 
biographies.  But  he  was  still  an  armchair  Chris- 
tian. He  still  selected  his  Church,  where  he  liked 
the  congregation.  In  Jerusalem  and  in  Cyprus,  he 
was  happy  because  he  was  among  friends.  In  Asia 
Minor,  where  the  little  isolated  causes  so  nearly 
cost  Paul  his  life,  John  Mark  was  miserable  and 
discontented,  not  discerning  the  Lord's  body. 
Hence,  the  difference  between  the  testimony  of 
John  Mark  to  foreign  missions  and  that  glowing 


OLD  CONFLICTS  WITH  NEW  177 

report  which  Paul  gave  to  the  disciples,  first  at 
Antioch,  then  through  Phoenicia  and  Samaria,  and 
finally  at  Jerusalem.  The  facts  were  the  same,  but 
they  were  put  in  such  diverse  ways. 

Jerusalem  was  aiming  at  the  primacy,  established 
later  by  Rome,  and  frankly  this  primacy  was  an  en- 
croachment. The  assumption  that  geography  and 
history  make  some  men  better  than  others  always 
sets  up  no  small  dissension  and  disputation.  But  to 
refuse  negotiation  would  have  been  to  deny  the 
unity  of  Christ.  This  quarrel  was  a  family 
quarrel.  To  decline  the  issue  would  have  turned 
evolution  into  revolution.  It  would  have  broken 
instead  of  liberating  society.  Where  many  a 
political  reformer  has  lost  patience  and  proceeded 
to  extremes,  Paul  turned  his  footsteps  backwards 
to  Jerusalem,  so  interrupting  his  plans  for  evan- 
gelizing the  world,  yet  winning  by  his  meekness 
the  greatest  victory  of  all. 

The  Judaizers  were  formidable  because  they  had 
a  positive  policy.  They  suggested  for  the  disciples 
a  definite  and  reasonable-sounding  sacrifice.  Since 
Christ  had  been  crucified,  who  could  object  to  mere 
circumcision?  What  grievance  could  there  be  in 
unleavened  bread  once  a  year?  It  was  the  per- 
ennial argument  for  ritual  and  monastic  austerities, 
and  Paul  was  too  wise  to  be  hostile.  So  far  from 
abolishing  circumcision,  he  circumcised  Timothy. 
He  thought  it  an  advantage  every  way  that  a  Chris- 
tian should  be  born  and  bred  in  the  old  faith  and 
acquainted  as  Timothy  was  with  the  Bible,  or  the 
oracles  of  God.  At  Jerusalem,  Paul  kept  the  feast. 
At  Cenchrea,  he  shaved  his  head  because  he  had 
a  vow.     flhe  kind  of  anticlericalism  which  we  find. 


178  THE  CHUPtCH  WE  FOUGET 

let  us  say,  in  parts  of  Europe,  received  no  sanction 
from  Paul.  But  where  the  Judaizers  concentrated 
their  minds  upon  themselves, — their  feelings,  their 
status,  their  ultimate  safety, — Paul  laid  before  them 
a  map  of  the  world  and  declared,  place  by  place, 
what  God  was  doing  among  all  men.  Instead  of 
asceticism  and  formality,  he  proposed  a  conquest  of 
evil  and  death  and  pain,  a  deliverance  of  nations 
and  souls,  bolder  by  far  than  any  dream  of  empire 
or  ambition  of  monarch.  By  that  journey  to  Jeru- 
salem, Paul  brought  the  earliest  Christians  into 
touch  with  the  latest  Christianity.  Amid  persecu- 
tion, there  spread  an  atmosphere  of  victory.  Over 
the  entire  region  there  swept  a  wave  of  joy  that 
dispelled  the  gloom  that  in  subsequent  years  settled 
on  the  eastern  Churches,  and  is  reflected  in  those 
mosaics  which  always  present  us  with  a  suffering 
rather  than  with  a  triumphant  Saviour. 

While  accepting  circumcision  or  organized  re- 
ligion, Paul  thus  showed  that  organized  religion 
must  never  be  exclusive.  Circumcision  must  be 
willing  to  appear  on  the  same  platform,  occupy  the 
same  pulpit,  eat  the  same  bread  as  the  uncircum- 
cised.  Since  Old  and  New  are  surrounded  by  the 
eternal,  they  must  live  side  by  side.  Therefore, 
while  himself  a  Pharisee,  Paul,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
greets  Titus,  a  Greek  who  was  not  circumcised,  as 
a  man  of  "  a  common  faith."  While  the  Colossians 
were  troubled  over  rites  and  ceremonies,  other  than 
circumcision,  Paul  would  have  no  one  judge  another 
whether  in  meat  or  in  drink  or  in  respect  of  an  holy 
day  or  of  the  Sabbath  days,  since  these  are  shadows, 
whereas  the  substance  is  Christ. 

At  Jerusalem,   there   was  already   an  imposing 


OLD  CONFLICTS  WITH  NEW  179 

hierarchy.  Ranged  in  their  ranks  sat  apostles  and 
elders  and  brethren — the  Sanhedrin  of  the  Primi- 
tive Church.  Peter,  though  a  witness,  no  longer 
presided  and  the  moderator  was  James,  brother  of 
the  Lord,  who  had  been  so  slow  to  believe  on  Him. 
James  was  a  man  of  judicial  temperament,  who  had 
felt  that  enthusiasm  for  Christ  was  a  form  of  mad- 
ness,— who,  as  we  learn  from  an  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  only  believed  because  he  saw  Christ 
Risen.  Now  called  an  apostle,  that  vision  had 
been  his  only  ordination  and  as  he  weighed  the 
present  issue  before  the  Church,  he  displayed  once 
more  the  caution  of  a  statesman.  It  had  its  value. 
It  secured  for  Paul  and  Barnabas  an  honourable 
acquittal.  Judaism  was  not  allowed  to  split  the 
community.  But  that  Sanhedrin  extended  no  man- 
date— evoked  no  impulse  for  the  Gospel.  No  one 
urged  the  missionaries  to  go  yet  further  afield. 
No  one  offered  to  accompany  them.  It  was  only 
after  he  had  breathed  the  air  of  Antioch  that  Silas 
volunteered. 

Peter  spoke  and,  as  usual,  spoke  first.  He  spoke 
on  the  right  side.  And  there  is  a  certain  human 
quality  in  his  claim  that  through  him  first  did  the 
Gentiles  hear  the  Gospel.  Historically  it  was 
hardly  true.  The  difficulty  had  been  that  the  Gen- 
tiles, having  heard  the  Gospel  from  others  than 
Peter,  could  not  obtain  Peter's  consent  to  admission 
as  converts.  The  company  seems  to  have  been  not 
wholly  convinced  by  Peter's  eloquence.  His  words 
became  warmer.  He  spoke  of  tempting  God,  of 
putting  a  yoke  on  the  necks  of  the  disciples,  and  by 
a  noble  declaration  of  man's  world-wide  right  to 
salvation  and  the  Spirit,  he  finally  secured  silence 


180     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

for  Paul  and  Barnabas.  Their  overpowering  in- 
fluence was  due  to  the  fact  that  they  had  hazarded 
their  lives  for  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  That 
was  an  argument,  impossible  to  refute. 

It  was  not  from  James  and  this  Christian  Sanhe- 
drin  that  the  world  was  to  receive,  for  all  time,  a 
final  declaration  of  the  free  grace  which  is  offered  in 
the  Lord  Jesus.  These  men  were  thinking  too 
much  about  their  own  dissensions  to  inscribe  on  an 
immortal  page  a  letter  like  those  to  the  Galatians, 
the  Romans,  and  the  Hebrews.  Their  decision  was 
right;  they  threw  over  the  Judaizers;  but  they  ex- 
pressed their  decision  in  terms  of  a  compromise, 
worthy  of  the  Elizabethan  or  the  Lutheran  divines. 
The  issue  was  circumcision;  the  keeping  of  feasts; 
the  law  of  Moses.  No  one  had  suggested,  up  to 
that  moment,  that  meats  offered  to  idols  were  in 
question,  or  fornication,  or  the  best  way  of  killing 
animals  for  food.  By  introducing  these  matters, 
the  Church  saved  the  face  of  the  men  who  had 
been  in  the  wrong  and,  as  we  shall  see,  the  faces,  so 
saved,  returned  unabashed  to  create  further  trouble 
in  the  Church.  As  Paul  was  to  discover,  the  prob- 
lem of  food  served  to  idols  was  much  more  delicate 
than  this  casual  mention  of  it  would  suggest.  A 
chicken  that  has  had  its  neck  wrung  is  "  strangled," 
yet  eating  cold  chicken  is  not  now  mentioned  as  a 
sin.  If  only  the  Church  had  gone  quietly  about  its 
appointed  task,  and  had  been  spared  the  words 
which  subvert  the  soul,  all  these  questions  would 
have  solved  themselves. 

At  Antioch,  the  letter  from  Jerusalem  gave  con- 
solation. Peter  also  arrived  there  and  ate  freely 
with  the  Gentiles.     Paul  and  Barnabas  began  to 


OLD  CONFLICTS  WITH  NEW  181 

discuss  their  next  tour  among  the  heathen.  But 
the  Judaizers,  having  evaded  a  frank  decision  be- 
tween Christ  and  Moses,  returned  to  Antioch,  and 
quietly  refrained  from  association  with  Gentiles. 
They  said  nothing;  outwardly  they  had  become 
models  of  charity.  But,  beneath  the  surface,  there 
was  a  quiet  contempt  for  these  nonconformists  and 
you  had,  as  it  were,  to  choose  between  the  exclusive 
and  desirable  cUque,  and  the  whole  Society  of  the 
faithful.  Peter  and  even  Barnabas  began  to  declme 
invitations  which  previously  they  had  accepted. 
A  taint  of  snobbery  could  be  detected.  People  met 
in  church,  but  not  in  each  other's  houses.  Either 
you  were  in  the  set  or  you  were  an  outsider. 

At  such  behaviour  by  Peter,  Paul  did  not  hide  his 
indignation.  Vv^riting  of  the  matter  years  later,  he 
tells  us,  without  apology,  that  he  withstood  the 
apostle  to  the  face,  because  he  was  to  be  blamed. 
By  accepting  the  Christ,  these  Gentiles  were  cut 
off  in  some  measure  from  their  own  people;  they 
had  become  ''  peculiar  "  or  "  separate  "  ;  and  to  deny 
them  their  full  inheritance  in  the  Church  was  an 
injustice,  against  which  Paul's  spirit  revolted.  ^  Un- 
fortunately, Barnabas  also,  moved  by  old  friend- 
ship with  Peter,  took  sides  against  Paul,  and  with 
Barnabas  was  John  Mark.  In  Christ,  Paul  won  the 
day,  but  the  wounds,  inflicted  on  both  sides,  did  not 
quickly  heal.  With  a  touch  of  irony  Paul  tells  the 
Galatians  how  Peter  agreed  that  he  might  go  to 
the  heathen,  provided  that  they  remembered  the 
poor,  which— as  he  adds—"  I  also  was  forward  to 
do."  And  when  Barnabas  proposed  that  John  Mark 
should  again  accompany  them  to  Asia  Minor,  Paul 
firmly  drew  the  Hne.     Barnabas  pleaded  that  John 


182     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Mark  was  his  nephew.  Paul,  who  also  had  a 
nephew  in  Jerusalem  but  did  not  push  his  career, 
answered  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord.  Once  for  all, 
family  influence,  which  helped  Jesus  so  Uttle,  was 
condemned  for  His  disciples.  Barnabas  took  John 
Mark  to  Cyprus,  and  so  ended  his  career  at  Paphos, 
while  Paul  was  carried  to  Rome.  Cyprus  was  an 
island  in  the  Mediterranean,  small,  interesting, 
isolated.  Rome  surrounded  the  Mediterranean, 
and  symbolized  the  world-wide  Christendom  that 
was  to  be. 

The  strife  between  the  new  and  the  old  goes  on 
forever.  It  was  an  issue  that  neither  Peter  nor 
Paul  could  settle.  The  wonderful  thing  is  that 
while  the  quarrel  itself  continues,  these  men,  who 
had  been  protagonists,  were  reconciled.  Peter's 
last  word  about  Paul  showed  that  he  read  and  liked 
even  where  he  did  not  always  understand  what  Paul 
wrote.  He  accepted  Paul  as  a  mouthpiece  of  the 
faith.  And  Paul,  on  his  side,  exchanged  ideas  with 
Peter  so  that  in  reading  the  letters  of  these  two 
men,  we  are  conscious  of  one  Spirit,  animating 
them  both.  Take  any  reference  Bible  and  you  will 
find  a  dozen  illustrations  of  this  loving  counsel. 
And  among  the  intermediaries  was  John  Mark  him- 
self. He  who  had  flinched  from  the  perils  of  Asia 
Minor,  followed  Paul  to  Rome,  and  was  there 
partner  with  Paul  in  his  final  witness.  I  sometimes 
wonder  what  event  it  was  that  led  John  Mark  to 
cljse  his  Gospel  so  suddenly — as  Luke  closed  the 
Acts. 


XXI 

THE  CALL  OF  MACEDONIA 

THESE  are  days  when  countless  millions  of 
men  and  women  have  no  fixed  abode.  They 
are  born  in  one  country,  migrate  to  another  and 
settle  finally  in  a  third.  It  may  be  duty  that  carries 
them  to  and  fro;  it  may  be  ambition;  it  may  be 
mere  restlessness;  anyhow,  their  only  hearth  is  a 
hotel,  the  cabin  of  a  ship,  an  upper  or  lower  berth 
in  a  sleeper.  For  such  people,  the  wanderings  of 
Paul  are  of  absorbing  interest  because  they  show 
us,  in  a  rapidly  developing  civilization,  how  to  be 
happy  though  homeless. 

Other  travellers  made  during  their  lifetime 
greater  stir.  Alexander  the  Great,  for  instance, 
who  wept  at  the  Indus,  because  there  was  no  other 
world  to  conquer,  and  Christopher  Columbus,  who 
discovered  America.  The  especial  quality  which 
distinguishes  Paul's  journeys  was  that  he  went 
forth,  not  to  get  anything  for  himself,  whether 
knowledge,  or  fame,  or  power,  or  wealth,  but  to 
give  to  others,  to  share  with  others,  to  hide  him- 
self and  his  aims  in  Christ  which  meant  in  the  needs 
and  hopes  of  others.  For  the  sake  of  one  Esqui- 
mau, Paul  would  have  endured  an  Arctic  winter, 
but  in  the  mere  discovery  of  the  North  and  South 
Pole,  he  would  not  have  displayed  much  personal 

183 


184  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

interest.  Great  as  is  the  glory  of  flying  the  At- 
lantic, it  was  not  the  kind  of  glory  that  Paul 
wanted.  To  excite  men's  admiration,  to  furnish  a 
new  and  thrilling  sensation,  to  fill  the  newspapers, 
was  nothing  to  a  man,  himself  filled  with  the  power 
of  God  unto  salvation.  Therefore,  in  one  sense, 
his  life  was  spent  in  vain,  but  by  thus  losing  his 
life,  he  found  it.  This  solitary  pilgrim  and  stranger, 
as  he  described  himself,  who  entered  Athens,  alone 
and  on  foot,  who  faced  a  violent  death  at  Rome, 
with  only  Luke  at  his  side,  who  kept  no  diary,  and 
scattered  his  few  writings  to  places  so  widely  apart 
that  subsequent  collection  could  not  have  been  fore- 
seen, stands  second  to  Christ  alone  in  the  splendour 
of  his  biography — the  amplitude  of  his  recorded 
utterances. 

When  Our  Lord  stated  that  the  Son  of  Man  had 
no  place  to  lay  His  head.  He  showed  how  conscious 
He  was  that  living  in  hotels  and  temporary  apart- 
ments is  abnormal.  The  very  foxes  have  holes; 
the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests.  Paul  made  friends 
in  one  place,  only  to  tear  himself  from  them.  Re- 
peatedly, as  he  was  settling  down,  the  call  came  to 
move  elsewhere.  Little  need  we  wonder  if  he 
yearned  for  an  abiding  city,  the  place  prepared  for 
him,  where  he  might  be  seated  happily,  with  the 
Saviour  Whom  he  loved.  Yet  as  a  figure  in  his- 
tory,— hunted,  persecuted,  maltreated, — he  was  an 
utter  contrast  to  the  wandering  Jew  of  poetry  and 
drama.  Shylock,  dreaming  of  his  ducats,  is  piti- 
fully a  smaller  man  than  Paul,  who  being  of  the 
same  race  as  Shylock,  of  the  same  education,  the 
same  tenacious  obduracy,  dreamed  of  an  inherit- 
ance, incorruptible  and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth 


THE  CALL  OF  MACEDONIA  185 

not  away,  reserved  in  heaven— note  the  exquisitely 
unselfish  touch— not  "  for  me  "  but  "  for  you  "—for 
others  than  himself. 

What  made  this  difference  betv^een   Paul  and 
Shylock  was  the  consciously  realized  companion- 
ship of  Christ.     As  the  tabernacle  in  the  wilder- 
ness was  guided  by  the  pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire,— 
a  narrative  to  which  Paul  would  often  refer— so  his 
itinerary  can  only  be  explained  by  his  prudent  reso- 
lution only  to  travel  where  the  presence  of  Our 
Lord  led  him.     In  his  second  missionary  tour   it  is 
astonishing   to   note   how   his   path   was   directed, 
neither  to  the  left  hand  into  Asia,  the  little  province 
on  the  ^gean,  nor  to  the  right  hand,  to  Bithynia, 
on  the  Black  Sea,  but  straight  between  the  two,  to 
Troas,  or  Troy,  for  they  were  near  one  another,  on 
the  Dardanelles,— the  gateway  to  Europe.     At  a 
later  period  Paul  did  make  a  church  in  Asia,  like 
the  famous  Ephesus,  his  headquarters,  but  we  can 
see  the  wisdom  which  secured  for  him  the  wider 
experience  of  Athens,  and  Philippi  and  Corinth  and 
Salonica  and  Berea.     It  meant  that  he  did  not  deal 
with  the  orientalized  colonies  of  Greece  until  first 
he   had    seen    Greek  culture    at    the  fountainhead. 
Thus  sensitive  was  Paul  to  guidance,  as  a  compass 
is  sensitive  to  the  earth's  magnetic  axis,  and,  with 
scientific  exactitude,  he  resolutely  declined  to  allow 
any  one  save  the  unseen  Spirit  to  direct  his  foot- 
steps.    On  his  third  return  to  Palestine,  every  one 
told  him  and  with  good  reason  that  he  was  im- 
perilling his  life.     In  Asia  and  in  Greece,  the  Jews 
had  constantly  pursued  him,  stirring  up  riots  and 
fomenting  plots,  and  the  source  of  all  this  murder- 
ous intent  was  Jerusalem.     Agabus  the  prophet,  for 


186     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

instance,  had  lived  for  many  years  in  that  city 
where  he  was  usually  the  reluctant  harbinger  of 
trouble.  We  have  seen  how  at  Antioch,  this  man 
foretold  famine,  and  at  Csesarea  in  the  house  of 
Philip,  he  warned  Paul  that  he  would  be  taken 
alive  and  bound.  That  no  element  of  horror  might 
be  missing,  Agabus  unwound  Paul's  own  girdle  and 
tied  the  apostle's  hands.  The  weeping  of  the  dis- 
ciples might  break  Paul's  heart  but  not  his  will,  and 
the  situation  is  parallel  with  that  great  scene  when 
Peter  failed  to  dissuade  Paul's  Master  from  His 
purpose  to  meet  a  more  fearful  death  on  Mount 
Moriah  than  that  which  Abraham  prepared  for 
Isaac. 

One  of  the  surprises  of  the  war  has  been  the 
anxiety  of  our  young  men  to  undertake  the  most 
dangerous  service  as  aviators.  The  peculiar  feature 
of  early  Christian  discipleship  was  that  this  cour- 
age, associated  usually  with  the  ardour  of  youth, 
began  to  be  developed,  as  years  passed,  in  men  of 
advanced  years.  What  would  have  been  the  nerv- 
ous timidity  of  Peter's  old  age  was  changed  into  a 
passion  to  be  partaker  in  those  very  sufferings  of 
Christ  at  which  Peter,  when  in  the  prime  of  life, 
had  winced.  In  Paul's  case,  too,  the  trial  most 
keenly  felt  was  not  danger  but  frequently  igno- 
minious yet  imperative  flights  from  danger.  When 
the  time  came  for  standing  forth  boldly,  to  meet 
the  foe  at  any  cost,  Paul  wrote  like  a  Commander- 
in-Chief  announcing  a  glorious  victory.  In  that 
common  note  of  courage,  we  detect  his  final  and 
complete  reconciliation  with  Peter.  In  thought 
and  theology  they  had  argued,  in  death  they  were 
one. 


THE  CALL  OF  MACEDONIA  187 

As  a  Pharisee  and  a  Jew,  the  peril  of  PauFs  mind 
had  been  monomania,  intensity, — this  one  thing  he 
did  and  only  this  one  thing.  In  Christ,  Paul 
acquired  a  breadth  of  outlook,  a  balance  of 
energy, — which  transformed  him  from  the  narrow- 
est minded  of  zealots  into  a  statesman,  unquestion- 
ably the  greatest  in  Christendom.  He  was  a  re- 
vivalist but  he  was  also  an  ecclesiastic.  He  won 
converts,  but  he  also  feared  lest  they  should  slip 
away,  and  his  labour  on  them  be  in  vain.  Where 
others  have  been  satisfied  with  bringing  folks  to 
the  penitent  form,  Paul  gathered  the  disciples  into 
organized  churches,  to  which  he  would  return  again 
and  again,  making  sure  of  the  foundations.  Like 
the  Sower,  he  went  forth  to  sow,  but  his  aim,  as  he 
told  the  Corinthians,  was  to  be  a  complete  husband- 
man— reaping  as  well  as  sowing,  whatever  increase 
was  given  by  the  Almighty.  Changing  the  meta- 
phor, he  called  himself  a  builder,  careful  in  the 
choice  of  materials,  not  content  with  wood,  hay 
stubble,  but  selecting  gold,  silver  and  precious 
stones,  the  most  valuable  to  be  found,  and  only 
valuable  because  fireproof.  Hence  the  care  with 
which,  on  his  first  tour,  he  retraced  his  steps,  going 
back  more  than  once  over  the  same  ground.  On 
his  second  tour,  he  would  not  proceed  further  afield 
until  he  had  again  confirmed  these  Churches,  mak- 
ing sure,  as  it  were,  of  his  communications.  At 
Philippl  Paul  made  a  considerable  stay,  and  at 
Corinth  he  worked  for  a  year  and  a  half.  For 
three  years,  Ephesus  was  his  headquarters  and  at 
least  that  period,  probably  more,  was  spent,  first 
and  last,  in  Rome.  In  Paul's  evangelical  fervour, 
therefore,  there  was  neither  haste  nor  intellectual 


188  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

dishonesty.  He  wanted  men  to  be  saved  from  the 
wrath  to  come.  But  he  also  wanted  them  to  under- 
stand the  Book  of  Leviticus.  He  wanted  the  soul 
to  be  at  ease,  but  he  also  wanted  troops  of  good 
thoughts  to  garrison  the  mind.  He  was  not  a  col- 
lege don  who  keeps  the  Gospel,  if  he  has  it,  to  him- 
self. Neither  was  he  the  kind  of  street  preacher 
who  serves  the  Lord  his  God  with  his  emotions,  but 
with  nothing  else. 

This  was  the  man  who  found  himself  at  Troas, 
in  doubt  as  to  his  future, — who  remembered  how 
he  had  been  delayed  by  illness  among  the  Gala- 
tians, — how  he  had  been  told  by  the  Spirit  not  to 
go  into  Asia, — how  he  had  tried  to  proceed  to 
Bithynia,  but  had  been  again  prevented.  Never 
yet  had  Paul  reached  the  ocean  without  crossing 
it,  but  here  he  hesitated.  What  wilfulness  in  the 
man  there  had  been  during  past  years,  was  now 
dead.  One  feels  that  Paul  would  have  waited  at 
Troas  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  had  no  orders  to  the 
contrary  arrived.  But  like  an  eagle,  poised  in  the 
heavens,  when  all  was  dark,  he  saw — when  all  were 
asleep,  he  dreamed. 

There  lay  Macedonia,  rich,  educated,  historic,  re- 
Hgious,  the  gateway  to  Europe,  to  the  games,  the 
pleasures,  the  fashions  of  Corinth,  to  the  arts  and 
philosophy  of  Athens,  to  the  commerce  and  stern 
justice  of  Philippi,  to  the  turbulent  populace  of 
Salonica.  What  manner  of  appeal  would  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  make  to  this  elaborate  and  modern 
civilization?  Over  the  glittering  landscape,  of 
which  as  yet  he  knew  so  little,  Paul  brooded  and 
in  the  agony  of  his  thought  his  slumber  was 
troubled. 


THE  CALL  OF  MACEDONIA  189 

The  prophet  Ezekiel  had  seen  the  pageant  of  our 
industries,  and  especially  the  wonder  of  our  aero- 
planes as  a  glory  of  wheels,  flying  through  space, 
and  amid  the  wheels  the  countenance  of  man. 
Throughout  the  material,  so  he  declared,  reigns  the 
spirit  of  man  and  whithersoever  the  spirit  was  to 
go,  there  must  the  machinery  direct  its  unbending 
course.  To  Paul,  likewise,  the  glory  and  the  power 
of  Macedonia  rose  in  person  like  a  man;  in  all  that 
resplendent  vista,  man  alone  mattered;  and  the 
manhood  of  Macedonia,  so  proud  at  midday,  so 
busy,  so  vicious,  so  successful,  stood  in  the  silence 
of  the  night,  a  tragic  failure,  in  all  that  makes  Hfe 
worth  the  living.  With  gods  innumerable  at 
Athens,  with  crime  securely  imprisoned  at  Philippi, 
with  races  and  dramas  at  Corinth, — *'  Come  over  into 
Macedonia  and  help  ns,'' — ^was  the  cry  that  awakened 
Paul,  on  his  bed.  From  rich  as  well  as  poor,  it 
came;  from  old  as  well  as  young;  from  men  as  well 
as  women;  as  he  told  the  Romans,  there  was  no 
difference — all  were  one  in  the  need  of  help.  All 
turned  by  instinct  to  the  man  who,  as  the  Christ 
bearer,  could  bring  them  help.  The  yearning  of 
Lydia  for  some  glory  more  enduring  than  her 
purple, — the  misery  of  the  demoniac  girl,  as  she 
earned  her  master's  livelihood, — the  brutality  of  the 
jailer  as  he  steeled  his  heart  against  his  scourged 
and  stricken  prisoners — the  dissatisfaction  of  Dio- 
nysius  and  Damaris,  as  they  failed  to  find  comfort  in 
Athenian  philosophy — all  these  cried  out  for  a  more 
abundant  life.  To  Paul,  the  people  seemed  im- 
measurably distant  from  God — utterly  dark  amid 
the  light  that  had  not  ceased  to  shine  around  him — 
irretrievably  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.     But  he 


190  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

did  not  hesitate.  Poised  for  flight,  the  eagle  now 
swooped,  as  it  were,  from  heaven  to  earth.  Next 
morning,  Paul  found  a  ship,  loosed  his  moorings  to 
Asia,  sailed  straight  to  Samothrace,  paused  not  an 
hour  on  that  island,  but  proceeded  to  Neapolis, 
there  landed,  and  marched  upon  Philippi.  It  was 
the  chief  city  of  Macedonia,  the  nerve  centre  of  all 
that  region;  it  was  also  a  Roman  colony,  a  repro- 
duction of  the  world's  mistress,  seated  securely  on 
her  seven  hills.  There,  in  Philippi,  was  fought  the 
first  decisive  battle  between  Christ  and  the  pagan- 
ism of  the  civilization  in  which  we  ourselves  live 
and  move  and  have  our  being. 


XXII 
RESCUE  OF  WOMANHOOD 

THESE  are  the  days  when  every  human  insti- 
tution— thrones,  churches,  empires,  parlia- 
ments— are  on  trial.  Even  Old  Rome  which  was, 
perhaps,  the  noblest  organization  that  man  has  ever 
built,  as  modern  states  are  built,  upon  a  basis  of 
paganism,  failed  under  the  test.  The  city  of 
PhiHppi  as  a  colony  of  Rome  was  all  that  a  states- 
man admires.  It  was  secure  against  foreign 
aggression.  Its  commerce  enjoyed  absolutely  the 
freedom  of  the  seas.  A  well-filled  prison  vindicated 
law  and  order.  No  authority  interfered  with  the 
great  business  of  making  money,  whether  by  dyeing 
purple  as  Lydia  did,  or  by  exploiting  some  de- 
graded woman  who  wore  the  purple.  All  religions 
were  tolerated.  You  could  worship,  as  you  liked, 
in  a  heathen  temple  or  synagogue  or  place  of  prayer 
or  Lydia's  Christian  drawing-room.  Since  religion 
of  every  kind  was  a  mere  spectator  of  life — the 
chorus  to  the  drama — no  one  worried  about  what 
anybody  else  called  himself.  It  was  only  when  re- 
ligion began  wrestling  with  the  realities  that  dis- 
turbances arose. 

When  he  arrived  in  PhiHppi,  Paul  had  no  idea  of 
attacking  social  abuses.     Like  many  good  pastors 

191 


192     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

to-day,  he  was  bent  upon  spiritual  work  only.  He 
found  his  way  to  the  river,  where  people  already 
worshipped  God,  and  there  he  sought  the  deepen- 
ing of  their  divine  life.  Avoiding  secular  subjects, 
he  gathered  rnen  and  women  as  living  stones  and 
built  them,  one  by  one,  into  a  new  community  of 
saints.  As  he  spoke,  Lydia's  heart  opened,  noise- 
less as  a  flower,  and  being  a  woman  of  means,  she 
offered  hospitality  to  the  apostles,  in  her  own 
private  house.  By  thus  limiting  himself  to  this 
quiet  and  unobtrusive  evangeHsm,  Paul  avoided 
contact  with  the  municipality  and  the  multitude. 
He  took  no  part  in  local  and  national  politics. 

From  Lydia's  house  to  the  place  of  prayer  by  the 
river,  there  lay  the  pavement  or  sidewalk.  In 
Philippi,  as  in  other  large  cities,  this  street  was 
crowded  with  poverty,  abundance,  intemperance 
and  even  prostitution.  Most  of  the  people  who 
met  Paul  ignored  him  or  smiled  indulgently  at  his 
mission,  but  there  was  one  girl  who  knew  better  and 
she  was  a  demoniac.  Sheer  devilry  has  always 
been  quick  to  recognize  the  Son  of  God.  It  is  not 
the  drunkard,  the  gambler,  the  vicious  man  who 
raises  difficulties  about  the  divinity  of  Christ.  He 
^believes  and  he  trembles.  He  believes  because  he 
has  tried  the  alternative.  This  damsel  did  not 
deny  the  Gospel.  On  the  contrary,  she  asserted  it. 
She  shouted  that  Paul  was  a  servant  of  the  Most 
High  God,  She  laughed  not  because  salvation  was 
false,  but  because  salvation  was  true.  And,  in  her 
very  laugh,  there  was  a  lesson.  She  did  right,  in 
her  mania,  to  insist  that  the  way  of  this  salvation 
should  be  shown,  not  only  to  good  folks  like  Lydia, 
but  to  the  disreputable.     The  point  of  her  taunt 


KESCUE  OF  WOMANHOOD  193 

was  that  the  Gospel  was  offered — as  she  put  it — 
to  us — to  her  and  her  companions.  She  believed 
yet  she  defied. 

The  masters  of  the  girl  were  men  who  used  the 
profits  which  they  made  by  her  degradation,  to  buy 
the  clothes  and  the  jewels  that  adorned  their  wives 
and  daughters.  For  the  girl  in  the  parlour,  they 
sacrificed  the  girl  on  the  pavement  and  apparently 
they  rather  applauded  her  blasphemous  ribaldry. 
They  put  clever  yet  salacious  jests  into  her  young 
mouth.  It  was  their  libretto  that  she  sang.  It 
was  their  plot  that  she  played.  And  even  Paul  did 
not  at  once  get  his  moral  bearings.  He  lived  at  a 
time  when  such  slavery  was  permitted  and  since  the 
law  of  property  was  against  the  girl,  he  was  re- 
luctant to  interfere. 

But  while  the  Church  went  her  way  in  dignified 
silence,  the  woman  continued  her  cry.  She  was  not 
answered  by  saying  that  as  a  sweated  worker  she 
must  be  subject  to  the  laws  of  supply  and  demand. 
Tom  Hood  took  her  side  and  wrote  The  Song  of  a 
Shirt.  They  who  argued  that  her  bondage  was 
ordained  of  Moses  were  confounded  by  Harriett 
Beecher  Stowe  and  Whittier.  Others  who  thought 
that  her  circumstances  were  hardly  proper  to  dis- 
cuss had  to  confront  Josephine  Butler.  It  was  hard 
indeed  to  meet  Lydia  every  day,  and  receive  her 
service,  having  passed  by  without  helping  Lydia*s 
unfortunate  sister.  Paul  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
He  commanded  the  devil  to  come  out  of  the  girL 
He  rescued  the  unhappy  creature.  He  struck  the] 
first  blow  of  the  Church  for  the  emancipation  of 
woman.     He  founded  the  modern  suffrage. 

Paul  lived  a  bachelor  and  but  for  the  grace  of 


194     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

God  might  have  been  a  misogynist.  Yet  he  has 
become  the  patron  saint  of  Protestantism,  while 
Peter,  the  married  apostle,  has  been  claimed,  some- 
what recklessly,  as  the  ideal  patriarch  or  pope  of 
a  celibate  clergy.  This  is  the  more  remarkable 
because,  undoubtedly,  Paul  found  it  hard  to  get  out 
of  his  books  and  into  the  mind  of  the  child.  Where 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  abounded  in  tender  allusions 
to  home,  Paul  drew  his  parables  from  the  prize- 
ring,  the  race-course,  the  diplomatic  service,  the 
architecture  of  temples  and  palaces,  the  armoury 
of  a  Roman  legion,  or  the  science  of  anatomy,  as 
discussed  by  his  friend  and  physician,  Luke.  But 
/the  common  idea  that  he  held  women  at  a  discount 
is  mistaken.  He  and  Silas  looked  upon  the  de- 
liverance of  this  Philippian  girl  as  a  work  for  Christ. 
For  her  sake,  they  were  stripped  of  their  raiment 
and  scourged;  for  her  sake,  they  were  thrust  bleed- 
ing into  a  foul  dungeon,  where  through  the  dark 
night  they  sang  praises. 

What  Paul  desired  of  women  was  a  full  measure 
of  noble  conduct.  At  Csesarea,  he  selected  for  his 
host  that  Philip  whose  four  daughters  prophesied. 
In  the  city  of  Corinth,  he  approved  of  a  woman 
praying  and  preaching  in  public,  but  in  a  modest 
costume,  suitable  for  her  sex.  He  insisted  upon 
the  single  marriage  vow  and  dealt  with  the  sub- 
ject, gravely,  and  with  good  sense.  He  pointed 
out, — what  is  obvious — that  the  cares  of  marriage 
often  limit  a  man's  public  career.  He  warned  his 
friends  that  many  marriages  are  unhappy.  He 
stated  frankly,  w^hat  has  never  ceased  to  be  the 
fact,  that  a  wife  often  seeks  to  please  rather  than 
to  rule  her  husband.     But  he  dignified  that  relation 


RESCUE  OF  WOMANHOOD  195 

by  declaring  it  a  mystery,  a  symbol,  expressive  of 
Christ's  love  for  His  Church.  A  man  shall  cherish 
his  wife  as  he  cherishes  his  own  flesh,  and  so  far 
from  forbidding  matrimony,  Paul  expressly  told  the 
younger  women  to  marry  and  bear  children. 

His  messages  to  women  who  had  become  dis- 
ciples were  numerous.  It  was  to  his  mother, 
Eunice  and  his  grandmother,  Lois,  that  he  at- 
tributed the  whole  of  Timothy's  superb  training  in 
the  Scriptures.  Again,  there  was  Phebe  who  went 
down  from  Cenchrea  to  help  the  Christians  in 
Rome;  and  Aquila  and  his  wife,  Priscilla,  who  were 
expelled  as  Jews  from  Rome  to  Corinth,  where  the 
Church  met  in  their  house— a  husband  and  wife 
who  are  never  mentioned  except  together.  These 
are  only  a  few  of  the  many  women,  immortalized  by 
Paul's  allusions,  and  if  at  times  he  wrote  severely 
about  feminine  frailties,  it  was  because  he  kneWj 
what  harm  women  can  do.  It  was  their  influence 
that  wrecked  his  mission  at  Iconium.  At  Corinth, 
they  were  bidden  to  cease  their  gossip  during  the 
services,  and  to  discuss  with  their  husbands  after- 
wards whatever  points  in  the  sermon  they  failed  to 
understand.  But  if,  in  one  passage,  he  calls  them 
busybodies,  in  another  passage  he  brings  precisely 
the  same  charge  against  men  who  are  idle  in  their 
habits. 

Where  Perseus  fought  the  dragon  to  save  An- 
dromeda and  where  knights  of  chivalry  entered  the 
tournament  to  honour  their  lady  of  high  birth,  Paul 
and  Silas  were  not  ashamed  to  suffer  ignominy,  only 
less  shameful  than  a  felon's  death,  for  a  girl  whom 
mythology  and  chivalry  would  have  despised.  As 
gentlemen  and  as  Christians  they  had  their  reward. 


196  THE  CHUliCH  WE  FOEGET 

Leaving  Philippi,  scarred  and  bruised,  they  went 
to  Salonica  and  to  Berea  where  many  honourable 
women  were  won  for  Christ.  This  influence  never 
diminished  and  when  Paul  made  his  defense  before 
Agrippa,  it  is  significant  that  Berenice,  the  Queen, 
attended  the  trial.  From  that  day  at  Philippi  to 
this  our  own  day,  the  cause  of  Christ  has  been  linked 
indissolubly  with  the  dignity,  the  grace,  the  rights 
of  woman,  and  particularly  of  woman  as  the  queen 
and  the  glory  of  the  home,  To  whatever  region  of 
the  world  you  travel,  whether  in  the  lands  of  Islam, 
of  Buddha  or  of  Confucius,  you  will  find  this  to  be 
broadly  true  and  one  of  the  first  sure  results  of  a 
collapse  of  the  faith,  even  as  nominally  professed 
'in  countries  like  Germany  and  Russia,  is  a  renewed 
degradation  of  woman. 

It  was  for  no  narrow  and  dialectical  formulary 
that  Paul  and  Silas  were  thrust  into  that  prison. 
The  issue  was  simple  and  direct.  The  multitude 
were  asked  to  decide  between  those  who  thought 
tbat  gain  was  more  important  than  the  girl  and 
those  who  thought  that  the  girl  was  more  impor- 
tant than  gain — between  Barabbas,  who  robs  peo- 
ple of  life  and  goodness  and  Christ  who  gives  them 
life  and  goodness — between  Mammon,  which  means 
the  material,  and  God,  Who  is  spirit  and  truth. 
The  accusation  was  public.  The  trial  was  by  jury 
of  the  entire  multitude.  The  verdict  was  unani- 
mous and  popular.  Gain  was  preferred  to  the 
girl — Barabbas  was  preferred  to  Christ — Mammon 
was  preferred  to  God,  and  this  happened  in  a  city 
wherein  were  combined  all  the  advantages  of 
Roman  Law  and  Greek  Culture  which,  largely  to 
the  exclusion  of  Christ's  teaching,  have  been  for 


RESCUK  OF  WOMANHOOD  197 

centuries  the  foundations  of  our  instruction  in 
schools  and  colleges,  especially  in  the  old  world. 
As  we  have  sown,  so  we  have  reaped. 

Doubtless  it  was  not  a  straight  choice  that  they 
put  before  the  people.  The  decision  between 
greed  and  girlhood  was  falsely  expressed  as  a  de- 
cision between  Rome  and  Jerusalem,  between  the 
customs  of  idolatry  and  the  laws  of  Moses.  In  the 
sense  that  they  meant,  this  was  a  lie  and  it  is  but 
one  more  instance  of  the  view,  so  often  put  for- 
ward in  the  Bible,  that  evil  is  essentially  a  decep- 
tion, that  Satan  is  the  personified  opposite  to  truth, 
and  that  preaching  the  Gospel  is  in  the  main  a  clear- 
ance of  side  issues.  But,  here  at  Philippi,  as  at  the 
trial  of  Jesus,  what  they  said  in  deliberate  error  was 
actually  an  undesigned  statement  of  the  facts.  It 
was  from  Jerusalem  that  men  learnt  the  nobility  of 
woman.  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob  were  for  us 
the  founders  of  that  romance  which  surrounded  the 
lives  of  Ruth  and  Hannah  and  culminated  finally 
in  the  incomparable  loveliness  of  the  Virgin  Mother 
of  Our  Lord.  To  this  day,  the  best  Judaism  shares 
with  the  best  Christianity  this  glorious  tradition, 
and  if  the  new  Israel  could  have  been  united  with 
the  old  Israel  to  maintain  it,  how  greatly  would  our 
happiness  have  been  fostered. 


XXIII 
PRISONERS  AND  CAPTIVES 

ON  more  than  one  occasion,  Christ  commanded 
His  followers  to  visit  prisons  and  comfort 
captives.  In  the  annals  of  the  early  Church,  I 
cannot  find  one  record  that  the  disciples,  of  their 
free  will,  obeyed  this  injunction.  When  Peter  went 
to  prison  and  when  Paul  and  Silas  went  there,  they 
were  compelled  so  to  do,  not  by  love,  but  by  law 
and  by  violence.  Seventeen  hundred  years  later, 
John  Howard  found  the  prisons  of  Christendom 
still  unreformed.  When  he  died  of  jail  fever, 
Elizabeth  Fry  arose  to  declare  the  horrors  of  New- 
gate, and  Gladstone  aroused  Europe  against  the 
dungeons  of  Naples.  In  many  lands,  even  to- 
day,— in  India,  in  Korea,  in  Germany, — criminal 
jurisprudence  is  challenged,  abuses  are  alleged,  and 
ameliorations  are  suggested,  while  in  the  United 
States,  sentences  are  often  reduced.  The  drama  in 
the  prison  of  Philippi  is  thus  universal. 

Peter  had  been  consigned  to  the  dungeons  of  an 
autocrat.  He  was  a  victim  of  Czardom,  of  the 
royal  Herods.  Paul  and  Silas  were  incarcerated, 
not  less  cruelly,  by  the  multitude,  by  a  plebiscite,  a 
democracy — by  an  outbreak  of  sheer  Bolshevism, 
superseding  Paul's  constitutional  citizenship.  Be- 
tween the  conduct  of  mankind  in  the  mass  and  man- 

198 


PRISONERS  AND  CAPTIVES  199 

kind  on  the  throne  there  was  thus,  apart  from  the 
restraining  love  of  Christ,  but  little  difference. 
Men  dwelling  under  any  poUtical  system  equally 
needed  the  Gospel.  It  was  thus  in  Paris  herself. 
The  fall  of  an  Empty  Bastille  was  rapidly  followed 
by  the  espionage  and  arrests  under  Robespierre  and 
Napoleon.  And  never  had  the  Bastille  of  the  Bour- 
bons been  so  dreaded  as  the  Conciergerie  under  the 
Terror. 

The  flogging  of  Paul  at  Philippi  was  an  example 
of  lynch  law.  As  a  Roman  citizen,  he  was  im- 
mune and  in  insisting  on  immunity,  he  was  right. 
Revolution  tears  down  privileges,  because  privi- 
leges are  usually  enjoyed  by  the  few.  Moved  by 
the  deeper  wisdom  of  Jesus,  Son  of  David,  Paul 
stoutly  upheld  his  privileges,  whether  Jewish  or 
Roman — upheld  them  because  only  thus  could  he 
share  them  with  mankind.  Instead  of  denying  his 
ancestry,  he  said  that  whatever  he  was  as  a  child 
of  Abraham,  we  may  become.  Instead  of  renounc- 
ing his  Roman  citizenship,  he  used  it  to  fortify  the 
citizenship  that  is  in  heaven — the  right  of  every 
man  to  happiness.  It  was  at  Philippi  that  there 
was  first  asserted  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act.  It  was 
Paul  who  forced  the  magistrates  to  fulfill  their  re- 
sponsibility as  the  trustees  for  his  inviolable  body. 

The  weakness  of  any  prison  system  is  that,  in 
the  endeavour  to  restrict  evil,  it  brutalizes  what  is) 
good.  Those  prisoners  could  enjoy  music,  but  until 
Paul  and  Silas  sang,  there  was  no  music  for  them 
to  enjoy.  They  understood  prayer,  but  until  Paul 
and  Silas  prayed,  they  were  offered  no  evening 
worship.  The  firit  prison  chapel  was  the  inner- 
most dungeon  and  the  chaplains  thereof  were  the 


200     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

latest  convicts.  These  jailbirds  could  have  worked 
and  read  but  their  feet  were  fast  bound  in  the 
stocks  and  their  cells  were  dark.  Instead  of  fight- 
ing the  evil  in  these  men  with  good,  their  keepers 
reduced  the  good  to  atrophy  and  left  evil  in  com- 
mand. It  never  occurred  to  the  governor  that  an 
earthquake  might  shake  his  prison.  His  senses 
also  had  been  dulled  by  routine  and  after  scourg- 
ing the  missionaries  until  their  flesh  was  raw,  the 
man  never  slept  more  soundly.  Yet,  little  as  the 
authorities  imagined  it,  Christ  Himself  was  en- 
tombed in  that  penitentiary.  He  had  to  break 
forth.     The  foundations  were  shaken. 

Those  foundations  were,  in  one  word,  fear.  So- 
ciety was  simply  afraid  of  the  criminal  classes. 
The  governor  was  a  hostage  whose  life  was  held 
in  fear  lest  the  criminal  classes  should  escape.  The 
criminal  classes,  on  their  side,  were  terrified  by  the 
scourge.  There  was  no  evidence  that  offenders 
inside  the  prison  had  done  more  wrong  than  the 
masters  of  the  demoniac  girl,  who  were  respectable 
members  of  the  community.  Christ  never  referred 
to  prisoners  and  captives  as  especially  sinful  but 
only  as  especially  unfortunate.  He  came  not  to 
punish,  but  to  save  the  lost, — not  to  inflict  suffer- 
ing on  the  guilty,  but  to  share  it — and  what  He  said 
to  the  thief  was — To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Para- 
dise. If  the  law  had  reprieved  that  thief,  he  would 
have  been  sent  to  penal  servitude — as  we  say  iron- 
ically— for  life.  Christ  gave  him  His  presence  as 
the  one  sufficient  indispensable  condition  of  happi- 
ness. It  is  the  offer  and  the  acceptance  of  Christ 
that  cure  crime;  and  nothing  else. 

That    earthquake    brought    revolution.      Every 


PRISONERS  AND  CAPTIVES  201 

door  was  opened.  Complete  freedom  of  oppor- 
tunity was  established.  All  bands  were  unloosed. 
Not  one  prisoner  could  complain  any  longer  of  op- 
pression. For  a  brief  moment,  you  had  there  at 
Philippi  those  ideal  circumstances  of  which  Russian 
nihilists  have  dreamed — the  absolute  suspension  of 
organized  force — an  unrestricted  liberty  for  indi- 
viduals. The  millennium  itself  has  offered  no  more 
noble  prospect.  Yet  not  one  prisoner  escaped. 
Some  were  innocent,  others  were  guilty,  but  every 
one  of  them  was  fast  bound  by  some  chain  that  still 
clanked  when  the  fetters  of  iron  were  shattered. 
No  one  joined  Paul  and  Silas  in  their  song.  No 
one  was  able,  there  and  then,  to  begin  the  recon- 
struction of  society.  The  revolution  was  an  entire 
success,  for  five  minutes.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
every  essential  of  the  old  regime  had  been  reestab- 
lished and  by  the  consent  of  the  prisoners  them- 
selves. Because  it  was  the  Christ  Who  alone  sets 
free,  therefore,  they  were  as  yet  unprepared  for 
liberty. 

The  earthquake  had  been  material.  It  was  like 
the  bursting  of  bombs,  the  screech  of  shells,  the 
rending  of  roofs  and  shattering  of  timbers.  This 
was  much,  but  it  was  not  enough.  The  mind  and 
thought  of  man  had  to  change.  On  balance,  it  had 
been  the  jailer  who  wronged  the  prisoners,  but  the 
test  for  all,  whatever  their  grievances,  was  their 
attitude  for  the  future  towards  Christ  A  humbled 
despot  might  be  nearer  to  Him  than  the  most 
abused  of  his  unrepentent  victims.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  the  jailer  encountered  the  large- 
heartedness,  the  magnanimity  of  the  Redeemer — 
that  splendid  manliness  which  enabled   Christ  to 


202  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

say,  Father^  forgive  them,  fm'  they  knozv  not  what  they 
do.  The  sword  was  in  the  man's  hand.  Suicide 
was  in  his  soul,  when,  from  the  depths  of  the 
dungeon,  the  very  man  who  had  been  so  ruthlessly 
scourged,  was  heard  to  shout  loudly.  Do  thyself  no 
harm;  for  zve  are  all  here.  Never  did  any  disciple  do 
more  instant  good  to  one  who  had  despitefuUy 
used  him.  Paul's  was  not  a  premeditated  forgive- 
ness. It  was  immediate,  spontaneous,  enthusiastic. 
One  hint  of  reluctance,  one  tremor  in  that  loud 
voice,  and  the  jailer  would  have  lain,  a  dead  man. 
Paul's  was  the  piety  that  is  ready  at  once  for  the 
emergency. 

For  the  moment,  the  man  could  not  believe  his 
ears.  Such  idealism  was  too  much  for  him,  and  he 
called  for  a  light,  he  ordered  an  inquiry,  he  insti- 
tuted an  official  investigation  into  the  irregularities. 
His  mind,  like  the  mind  of  Thomas,  would  only  be- 
lieve what  the  eye  has  seen.  The  lantern  disclosed 
Paul  and  Silas,  two  ragged,  begrimed,  pallid  men, 
their  clothes  stained  with  blood,  their  feet  black 
with  bruises,  their  eyes  aflame  with  love  and  sym- 
pathy. Before  that  vision  of  the  indwelling  Christ, 
statesmanship  and  officialdom  and  criminology  fell 
prostrate.  Nay,  more — the  jailer  brought  them  out — 
removed  them  from  the  place  of  shame  and  en- 
throned them  in  the  place  of  power — asking  of  them 
what  their  solution  was  for  the  problem  of  evil — 
What  shall  I  do  to  he  saved?  This  man  who  lived  by 
punishing  others  was  brought  himself  under  knowl- 
edge that  he  also  was  undone.  The  convicts  who 
had  Christ  exercised  supreme  authority  over  their 
jailer  who  had  only  Caesar. 

The    man's    question    was    selfish.     It    sprang 


PRISONERS  AND  CAPTIVES  203 

straight  from  the  inner  egotism  of  the  society  in 
which  he  Hved.  He  did  not  want  to  know  how  to 
help  the  crowd  of  wretched  prisoners  around  him. 
He  had  no  idea  of  reUeving  the  aches  and  weari- 
ness of  Paul  and  Silas.  But  at  least  he  knew  that 
some  one  beyond  himself  must  be  his  Saviour. 
And  the  apostles  did  not  expect  to  find  in  him  the 
Christian  virtues  before  they  had  brought  him  to 
Christ.  They  did  not  tell  him  to  reform  the  prison, 
to  bind  up  their  wounds,  to  do  justice  to  the  help- 
less ;  they  left  all  that  to  the  Master.  Believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  they  said,  and  thou  shall  he  saved, 
and  thy  house.  Know  Him — study  Him — as  the  man 
Jesus,  who  shares  your  nature,  as  the  Anointed 
Messiah,  who  dominates  history,  as  the  Lord,  Who 
claims  a  personal  obedience.  Know  Him,  and  obey 
Him,  which  is  the  meaning  of  belief,  and  you  will 
be  safe — how,  makes  no  matter,  but  the  fact  will 
be  exactly  thus.  You  will  be  safe  and  so  will  your 
house — so  will  society — so  will  nations  and  em- 
pires— thrones  and  repubhcs.  In  belief,  you  have 
the  alternative  to  Bolshevism. 

A  belief,  mind  you,  with  understanding.  Many 
were  the  hours  that  night  which  Paul  and  Silas  de- 
voted to  uttering  God's  word  in  the  jailer's 
dungeon — to  making  God's  meaning  plain — and 
their  example  spoke  not  less  clearly.  While  they 
sat  and  talked,  they  also  suffered  and,  in  their  suf- 
fering, they  displayed  what  Christ  endured  on  the 
Cross.  Slowly  but  surely,  the  barriers  between 
Roman  and  Jew  and  between  governor  and  his  con- 
victs were  obliterated  by  kindliness  and  this  rough 
proud  man  himself  washed  their  stripes.  It  was 
his  first  confession  of  a  changed  heart. 


204     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

The  very  water  with  which  he  thus  served  Him 
Who  had  washed  His  disciples*  feet,  was  available 
for  baptism,  the  ecclesiastical  sign  and  seal  of  the 
dead  past  and  the  living  future.  But  there  still 
remained  unaltered  the  prison  system.  Neither 
Paul  nor  Silas  were  yet  liberated.  And  we  can 
conjure  up  the  moment  when  the  jailer  and  his 
family,  having  received  salvation  and  administered 
comfort,  were  about  to  withdraw  for  breakfast, 
leaving  their  new  friends  in  the  inner  dungeon. 
That  was  unthinkable.  To  the  imperative  demands 
of  the  Redeemer,  human  law  had  to  bow  and  the 
apostles,  themselves  asking  for  no  mercy,  were 
taken  by  the  jailer  to  his  home  and  nourished  with 
food. 

It  was  not  the  earthquake  that  rejoiced  the 
family,  but  the  companionship  of  the  Christ.  Yet 
a  part  only  of  His  abounding  love  was  all  that  they 
could  contain.  The  prison  still  stood.  The  pris- 
oners still  languished.  Much  was  left  for  future 
generations  to  accomplish.  It  was  not  Paul's  idea 
that  he  should  change  systems.  He  manifested  the 
Christ,  and  that  was  all.  But  he  showed  what  he 
thought  of  the  prison  system  when  he  asked  the 
Corinthians  if  any  one  of  them  dared  bring  a 
brother  in  Christ  before  a  tribunal  of  unbehevers. 
Not  that  he  underestimated  the  wickedness  of 
crime.  He  said  that  thieves  and  drunkards  shall 
not  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  God.  Nor  did  he  sug- 
gest any  particular  immunity  for  saints  and  clergy. 
If  they  did  wrong,  they  were  liable,  like  anybody 
else,  to  pay  the  penalty.  But  he  was  convinced 
that  no  Christian  should  institute  proceedings 
against  another  which  might  result  in  what  he  had 


PKISONERS  AND  CAPTIVES  205 

himself  experienced  in  a  Roman  dungeon.  How 
far  our  judgment  of  hard  labour  and  solitary  con- 
finement would  be  modified  if  we  had  been  under 
the  necessity  of  submitting  to  it,  I  cannot  say. 

From  this  time  onward  thoughtful  people  have 
regarded  prisons  with  a  growing  uneasiness. 
Measures  have  been  passed  in  many  countries 
which  do  at  least  mitigate  their  degradation  for  the 
young.  We  realize  now  that  when  a  man  or  a 
woman  comes  into  collision  with  society,  there  is 
fault  on  both  sides.  Allowance  must  be  made  for 
the  conditions  under  which  the  accused  person 
lived.  Science  discovers  in  the  criminal  a  disease 
as  well  as  an  offense.  To  deter  men  from  evil  is 
not  to  cure  them.  Peter  and  Paul  both  uttered 
terrible  warnings  against  wrong-doing,  but  their 
criminal  code  differed  widely  from  that  of  the  state. 
Malice,  evil-speaking,  hypocrisy,  uncleanliness, — 
these  were  the  sins  that  in  their  judgment  brought 
men  into  bondage,  and  they  thought  that  what  men 
needed  was  not  the  incarceration  in  a  material 
dungeon  but  the  liberation  of  soul  and  will  by  the 
free  Spirit  of  God. 


XXIV 
CHRIST  FOR  THE  UNIVERSITY 

JERUSALEM  was  a  theological  seminary; 
Athens  was  the  leading  university  of  the  Old 
World.  Whatever  we  mean  by  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge, by  Yale,  Harvard  and  Princeton,  was 
summed  up  for  the  ancients  by  those  philosophic 
schools  where  the  systems  of  Plato  and  Aristotle 
and  Epicurus  were  taught.  As  at  Oxford,  so  at 
Athens,  there  had  been  martyrs  like  Socrates  who 
died  for  freedom  of  conscience.  By  visiting  Athens, 
Paul  carried  the  challenge  of  Christ  to  scholarship 
in  every  land  in  every  age.  He  founded  the  student 
volunteer  movement.  He  inaugurated  settlements 
among  the  poor.  He  prepared  the  way  for  Wyc- 
liffe,  Latimer,  Luther,  Newman,  Emerson,  and 
John  R.  Mott.  He  declared  that  men  must  serve 
the  Lord  their  God  not  only  with  all  their  heart 
and  soul,  but  with  all  their  mind. 

Near  to  Athens  was  the  obscure  city  of  Berea. 
Few  people  could  have  placed  Berea  on  the  map, 
yet  it  was  in  Berea  rather  than  in  Athens  that  men's 
minds  awoke.  Both  places  wanted  the  latest  thing, 
but  while  Athens  listened  and  criticized,  Berea 
searched  and  found.  Athens  was  all  that  a  college 
/can  be  which  ignores  the  Scriptures.  Berea  was 
what  the  humblest  college  may  become  where  the 
Scriptures  are   read.     Day  by  day,   the   students, 

206 


CHRIST  FOPw  THE  UNIVERSITY        207 

both  men  and  women,  plunged  into  the  Bible. 
Taking  nothing  for  granted,  they  verified  the  claims 
of  Christ  by  invoking  the  judgment  of  history. 
Where  clever  people  only  arrived  at  speculation  or 
superstition,  the  Bereans  vy^ere  revi^arded  by  a  well- 
informed  belief.  With  all  its  art  and  poetry, 
Athenian  education  lacked  the  essentials.  The 
Bereans  seized  them. 

Some  people  think  that  Paul  approached  Athens 
with  a  feeling  of  profound  awe.  That  is  not  my 
reading  of  the  narrative.  His  stay  in  the  city  was 
quite  casual.  Indeed  he  dismissed  his  companions 
and  only  waited  in  Athens  at  all  because  he  wanted 
Timothy  to  rejoin  him.  He  remained  in  the  place 
three  weeks  only  and  never  went  back  there.  Not 
one  of  his  known  Epistles  was  written  to  Athens. 
The  idea  that  Paul  regarded  Athens  as  a  strategic 
position  to  be  won  at  all  costs  is  a  myth.  A  length- 
ening experience  had  taught  him  that  not  many 
wise,  not  many  learned  people  are  chosen  to  set 
forth  Christ,  nor  did  he  admit  for  one  moment  that 
the  Divine  Carpenter  would  owe  any  part  of  His 
triumph  among  men  to  intellectual  snobbery.  In 
Paul's  sense  of  proportion,  dons  and  speciaHsts 
found  their  level. 

What  stirred  the  apostle  was  the  folly  of  Athens. 
The  place  was  full  of  idols.  It  was  a  vast  ceme- 
tery, crowded  with  old  notions,  petrified  into  stone, 
or  as  they  say  at  Oxford,  the  home  of  lost  causes. 
At  Athens,  thought  was  fossilized  and  the  passions 
of  men  and  women  were  carved  into  curiosities. 
These  dead  theories  were  what  the  under-graduates 
were  bidden  to  worship.  About  these,  they  com- 
posed theses.    Over  these,  they  inscribed  their  odes. 


208     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Around  these,  they  wrote  their  commentaries. 
Words  and  formulas  were  the  reUgion  which  they 
practiced  with  restless  dissatisfaction,  constantly 
welcoming  whatever  thing  was  new,  provided  that 
it  was  sufficiently  trivial — some  turn  of  a  phrase, 
some  theory  of  date  or  authorship,  some  restate- 
ment of  evolution,  some  fresh  calculation  of  the 
distance  of  the  earth  from  the  sun,  or  some  tor- 
tuous trick  of  a  mathematical  tripos.  It  was  with 
ever  growing  amazement  that  Paul  watched  these 
mental  antics,  and  his  whole  being  was  aroused  to 
an  indignant  pity  that  useful  lives  should  be  thus 
squandered. 

/  In  the  United  States  Paul  would  have  been  called 
a  good  mixer.  Where  our  classicists  exhaust  ad- 
jectives in  praising  Athens,  the  apostle  was  in- 
terested rather  in  the  Athenians.  In  the  market- 
place he  did  not  gaze  at  the  buildings;  he  talked 
with  the  people.  He  found  that  some  of  them  were 
stoics,  who  substituted  severity  for  happiness,  and 
thought  therefore  that  they  were  better  than  others. 
Then  there  were  the  Epicureans,  who  believed  that 
happiness  was  merely  pleasure,  and  that  good  port 
wine  from  the  college  cellar  covers  a  multitude  of 
sins.  Even  in  Athens  there  was  a  synagogue. 
Amid  their  idols,  they  had  their  university  sermons. 
But  the  synagogue  breathed  paganism,  and  the 
Jews  had  no  energy  even  to  be  hostile.  Greeks  and 
Jews  alike  had  fallen  victims  to  pedantry,  which  is 
knowledge  divorced  from  service  and  sacrifice. 
These  pedants  were  ready  to  play  with  Paul  as  a 
child  plays  with  puppets.  Here  was  a  fellow  who 
had  no  taste  for  Pheidias — here  was  a  most  enter- 
taining Philistine — a  freak  for  the  fair.     Like  Fal- 


CHRIST  FOR  THE  UNIVERSITY        209 

staff,  he  babbled,  and  babblers,  if  not  taken  seri- 
ously, are  amusing.  So  they  brought  Paul  to  the 
Areopagus,  where  they  proposed  to  sacrifice  him 
by  their  ridicule,  as  gladiators  were  butchered  to 
make  a  Roman  holiday. 

The  Areopagus,  or  Mars  Hill,  was  an  amphi- 
theatre where  the  sword  play  shed  no  blood.  It 
was  the  popular  pulpit  of  the  town,  where  you 
heard  the  latest  preacher  without  loss  of  subse- 
quent sleep.  When  Paul  ascended  the  rostrum 
every  bench  was  crowded.  By  the  unanimous  ver- 
dict of  all  competent  persons,  he  rose  to  the  height 
of  a  great  argument.  By  birth  and  breeding,  he 
was  a  Jew,  an  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews  and  a  strict 
Pharisee.  In  Christ  he  had  become  a  citizen  of 
the  world,  able  to  discover  at  once  a  common 
ground  of  discussion  between  himself  and  people 
of  an  utterly  different  upbringing.  Under  his 
masterly  dialectic,  Athenian  philosophy  crumbled 
to  dust.  The  wisdom  of  Judea  which  began  with 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  overwhelmed  the  wisdom  of 
Greece  from  which  the  fear  even  of  idols  had  been 
eliminated.  Rationalism  could  make  no  rejoinder 
to  reverence. 

Paul's  advantage  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  ap- 
proached the  problems  of  life  with  a  heart  filled 
with  the  love  of  Christ.  You  Athenians,  said  he, 
are  too  religious — too  aesthetic — too  academic.  You 
think  too  much  of  the  Cathedral  and  too  little  of 
the  stone  mason — too  much  of  the  painting  and  too* 
little  of  the  artist — too  much  of  the  automobile  and 
too  little  of  the  mechanic — too  much  of  the  book 
and  too  little  of  the  typist — too  much  of  the  statue 
and  too  little  of  the  sculptor.     I  repeat — too  much 


210  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

of  the  statue,  too  little  of  the  sculptor.  Long,  long 
ago  such  a  sculptor  had  lived  and  had  died,  leaving 
behind  him  the  first  dim  thought  of  Christ  recorded 
in  Greece.  Watch  that  man  as  he  holds  the  chisel 
and  wields  the  mallet.  He  looks  up  and  earnestly  re- 
gards his  model.  As  he  looks  upon  that  human  face 
his  wonder  deepens.  *'  There  is  something,"  says 
he  to  himself,  "  in  this  countenance  which  is  more 
than  Zeus,  than  Apollo,  than  Pallas,  than  any  god, 
than  any  goddess  conceived  by  our  idolatry.  In 
this  man  before  me,  and  therefore  in  all  men,  there 
is  a  hidden  divinity  for  which  no  name  has  been 
found.  Some  day,  it  may  be  that  the  god  whom 
I  discern  in  the  face  of  my  brother  but  whom  I 
cannot  define  in  any  terms  understood  by  Greece, 
will  be  incarnate  in  human  flesh.  But  in  the  mean- 
time, this  my  altar  shall  be  dedicated  to  no  mytho- 
logical deity,  but  '  to  the  unknown  God.'  "  In  the 
vision  of  that  sculptor  was  thus  foreseen  the 
Christ — the  sculptor  was  the  Isaiah  of  heathendom, 
stammering  out  what  Hebrew  poetry  declared  in  its 
fullness.     The  seed  fell  into  the  ground  and  died. 

This  was  Paul's  text  and  from  it  he  declared  his 
good  news.  Over  the  entire  range  of  Greek  art 
and  philosophy,  he  wrote  the  word  ''  ignorance." 
The  one  art  that  matters  is  the  art  of  life — the  art 
of  expressing  God  in  one's  self  instead  of  expressing 
Plim  in  silver  and  gold,  in  temples  and  idols,  and  the 
works  of  men's  hands.  To  make  material  things 
live  is  not  vital.  But  to  accept  life  from  the  Eternal 
means  everything.  By  no  device  can  we  add  any- 
thing to  God.  All  we  can  do  is  to  seek  Him,  and 
feel  after  Him,  as  did  that  sculptor.  God's  children 
are  not  idols  and  statues,  but  men  and  women,  and 


CHRIST  FOR  THE  UNIVERSITY        211 

amid  our  great  buildings  and  noble  monuments  we 
must  change  our  minds — we  must  repent — because 
it  is  not  by  an  idol  that  we  shall  be  judged,  but  by 
a  Man,  a  duly  appointed  man,  not  a  living  being 
reduced  to  marble,  but  a  dead  Being  raised  to  life. 
Since  man  as  man  is  capable  of  being  Very  God,  it 
follows  that  all  nations  are  of  one  blood,  and  that 
differences  between  them  are  merely  of  time  and 
of  frontier.  Though  some  nations  are  more  ad- 
vanced than  others,  though  some  nations  dwell  at 
a  distance  from  others,  all  are  concluded  under  one 
destiny.  In  Christ,  there  is  neither  Barbarian, 
Scythian,  Bond  nor  Free. 

In  advancing  this  argument,  Paul  did  not  appeal 
to  Greeks  by  quoting  Hebrew.  He  found  Christ 
in  their  own  poets.  He  was  a  missionary  who 
would  prove  Christ  to  Mohammedans  by  reciting 
the  Koran,  and  to  "the  Chinese  by  references  to 
Confucius,  and  to  Hindus  by  allusions  to  Buddha. 
No  man  has  ever  been  able  to  teach  other  men 
without  bearing  witness,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, to  the  Son  of  Man.  Prophecy  is  not  an 
exception  or  a  miracle — it  is  universal. 

Paul  once  wrote  to  the  Corinthians  that  the  last 
enemy  to  be  destroyed  is  death.  In  the  power  of 
death,  every  Athenian  firmly  believed.  It  was 
when  life  was  mentioned  that  they  became  sceptics. 
Even  in  Egypt  they  were  thinking  about  these 
things  more  truly.  Where  the  Greeks  turned  their 
great  men  into  stone,  the  Egyptians  turned  them 
into  mummies,  and  even  buried  them  in  the  sand 
as  a  child  is  born,  being  firmly  convinced  that  some- 
where and  somehow,  they  would  rise  again  from 
the  dead.     The  thought  of  Egypt  was  older  than 


212  THE  CHUECH  AVE  FOKGET 

the  thought  of  Greece  and  it  was  nearer  to  God. 
Where  the  Egyptian  inscribed  his  Book  of  Judg- 
ment, the  Greek  merely  mocked  or  procrastinated. 
In  the  annals  of  the  human  race  there  has  never 
been  a  man  so  great  as  Paul  and  at  the  same  time 
so  humble.  In  himself  he  was  nothing  but  a  tent- 
maker,  but  in  Christ  he  was  an  Ambassador  and 
Plenipotentiary.  The  University  of  Athens  had  to 
learn  two  things,  first  that  the  way  of  salvation  is 
not  by  ridicule,  and  secondly,  that  even  the  clever- 
est people  cannot  choose  their  time  for  receiving 
the  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords.  The  pro- 
fessors who  said  that  they  would  listen  to  Paul 
again  about  this  matter  had  no  such  opportunity. 
He  left  them  to  their  art,  their  culture,  their  in- 
tellectual superiority  and  their  inevitable  decay. 
Of  all  those  doctors  and  professors  and  deans  and 
orators,  not  one  name  has  escaped  oblivion,  except 
by  the  permission  of  Paul  himself.  When  the 
crowd  separated  two  persons  remained  behind  and 
those  two  persons  have  achieved  immortality. 
They  were  the  successors  of  that  nameless  sculptor 
who  found  the  Unknown  God  in  the  face  of  his 
fellow  man.  One  was  called  Dionysius  the  Areop- 
agite,  the  man  dedicated  to  the  philosophy  of 
pleasure,  the  leader  of  his  secret  society,  the  captain 
of  his  college  club,  the  winner  of  his  university 
prize,  who  yet  needed  something  more  than 
academic  honour  and  found  it  in  Christ.  The  sec- 
ond was  a  woman  called  Damaris,  the  forerunner 
of  Newnham,  and  Girton,  and  Vassar,  of  the  school- 
teacher and  the  business  girl,  who  insists  on  living 
her  own  life  and  thinking  her  own  thought,  yet  finds 
that  she  needs  Christ.     Others  were  interested,  but 


CHRIST  FOR  THE  UNIVERSITY         213 

these  two  were  the  leaders,  these  two  clave  unto 
Paul,  and  in  Athens  these  two  became  the  people 
who  mattered.  And  from  that  day  to  this  it  is 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite  and  Damaris,  the  girl 
graduate,  who  have  preserved  the  universities  of 
Christendom  from  the  ruin  which  overtook  the 
universities  of  ancient  Greece. 

The  idea  that  intellect  stood  between  the  others 
and  the  Gospel  is  convenient  but  illusory.  In 
sneering  at  Paul,  those  Athenians  doubtless  thought 
that  they  were  doing  the  clever  thing.  Time  has 
shown  how  frivolous  was  their  estimate  of  truth. 
Their  trouble  was  not  acuteness  of  mind  but  mental 
apathy.  It  was  easier  to  chatter  about  philosophy 
than  to  understand  God.  What  constantly  im- 
pressed the  apostles  was  the  facility  with  which  so- 
called  learned  men  poured  forth  swelling  words 
like  clouds  without  water.  The  shelves  in  our 
libraries  groan  with  such  disquisitions  by  schoolmen 
of  every  age  in  whose  learning  there  is  no  drop  of 
refreshment  for  the  poor,  or  of  balm  for  the 
wounded.  They  and  their  writings  pass  away, 
ashes  to  ashes  and  dust  to  dust,  while  the  simple 
allegories  of  a  tinker  at  Bedford  stand  out  im- 
mortal as  the  supreme  examples  of  perfect  English, 


XXV 

THE  CHALLENGE  TO  CIVILIZATION 

WHEN  Paul  sailed  from  Athens,  failure  stared 
him  in  the  face.  While  his  own  heart  was 
aflame  with  the  love  of  Christ,  to  other  men  there 
seemed  to  be  no  beauty  in  the  Redeemer  that  they 
should  desire  Him.  Instead  of  sweeping  through  all 
lands,  the  Cause  was  retarded  by  an  often  barren 
controversy.  In  the  Churches  of  Galatia,  men  and 
women  who  should  have  spread  the  good  news 
were  debating  reunion  with  Judaism  and  inter- 
change of  pulpits  and  ritual  observances.  At 
Salonica,  they  wondered  needlessly  if  the  Lord 
would  fulfill  His  promises  and  return  to  earth  again, 
and  if  so,  when,  and  how,  and  what  in  the  mean- 
time was  happening  to  friends  who  have  died  and 
are  buried.  In  such  circumstances  did  Paul  land 
for  the  first  time  in  Corinth — the  Chicago  of 
Greece, — the  London  of  the  Balkans — where  trade 
flourished  and  wealth  was  multiplied — where  the 
Church  could  survive,  if  at  all,  only  by  making 
united  headway  against  the  distractions  of  luxury, — 
the  theatre,  the  circus,  the  places  of  music  and 
dance  and  pleasure  and  display.  At  Corinth,  the 
trouble  was  not  dogma  but  devilry,  not  dialectics 
but  degradations,  not  prophecy  but  prostitution, 
not  differences  of  opinion  but  chasms  in  conduct. 

214 


THE  CHALLENGE  TO  CIVILIZATION    215 

Here,  therefore,  Paul  spent  eighteen  months  and 
to  the  Corinthians  he  wrote  his  two  most  impas- 
sioned letters  of  appeal. 

At  first,  the  apostle  himself  hardly  appreciated 
the  magnitude  of  his  venture.  It  was  not  to  the 
market-place,  not  to  the  race-course,  that  he  pro- 
claimed the  good  news,  but  to  the  synagogue. 
There,  in  this  strange;  turbulent  foreign  com- 
munity, was  an  oasis  of  Hebrew  culture  where  he 
felt  at  home.  For  a  time,  it  seemed  as  if,  at  last, 
there  would  be  a  living  contact  between  the  old 
faith  and  the  new.  Both  were  suffering  persecu- 
tion. Many  Christians  were  expelled  by  the  Em- 
peror Claudius  from  Rome,  and  among  them  were 
Aquila  and  his  wife,  Priscilla.  In  their  home,  Paul 
gave  comfort  and  received  it.  Guest  and  hosts 
were  all  three  tent-makers  and  they  sat  together, 
working  at  their  trade  and  talking  about  the  Master. 
Paul  was  a  man  of  Tarsus,  brought  up  at  Jeru- 
salem. The  other  two  came  from  Pontus  on  the 
Black  Sea  and  were  residents  of  Rome.  Yet,  in 
Christ,  distance  was  obliterated,  and  their  friend- 
ship rapidly  developed.  It  was  a  friendship  fraught 
with  risks.  In  the  mind  of  Paul,  at  this  period, 
there  was  ever  present  the  dread  of  personal  vio- 
lence. The  fear  that  men  would  set  on  him  and 
hurt  him  was,  as  we  say,  getting  on  his  nerves.  It 
disturbed  his  sleep  and  was  only  dispelled  by  a 
special  vision  in  which  Our  Saviour  came  very  near 
to  him,  to  encourage  him,  to  promise  him  safety,  to 
assure  him  of  much  people  in  that  city.  Through 
these  mental  troubles,  Aquila  and  Priscilla  re- 
mained at  Paul's  side — as  he  put  it,  they  were 
ready  to  lay  down  their  necks  for  him,— and  their 


216     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

mere  companionship — to  quote  from  the  Romans — 
saved  Paul  for  the  Churches.  All  cannot  preach, 
all  cannot  expound,  but  there  are  those  without 
whose  sympathy  and  forbearance  the  preacher  and 
expounder  would  fall  far  short.  Such  were  Aquila 
and  Priscilla. 

The  Jews  of  Corinth  were  of  a  liberal  persuasion. 
They  had  dropped  their  Hebrew  names  and  called 
themselves  in  the  Greek  and  Roman  fashion — 
Crispus  or  Sosthenes  or  Justus.  The  man,  Crispus, 
was  chief  ruler  of  the  synagogue.  Under  his  in- 
fluence Paul  was  allowed  a  full  hearing,  and  the 
presence  of  Greeks  at  the  services  shows  what  the 
synagogue  might  have  become  if  only  Jesus  had 
been  accepted  as  the  Messiah.  With  matters  thus 
favourably  proceeding,  Silas  and  Timothy,  who  had 
stayed  behind  in  Macedonia,  rejoined  the  apostle. 
They  talked  over  the  position.  It  was  critical.  If 
a  Christian  synagogue  were  secured  at  Corinth,  it 
might  mean  a  Christian  temple  at  Jerusalem.  Paul 
was  pressed  in  spirit  by  the  sense  of  his  oppor- 
tunity. He  testified  to  the  Jews  that  Jesus  was  the 
Anointed  One.  He  would  have  testified  similarly 
to  Socialists,  to  Moslems,  to  Buddhists,  to  Con- 
fucians. For  men  and  women  of  every  faith, — 
''  here,"  he  would  have  said,  ''  is  your  Hope,  your 
Fulfillment." 

The  issue  lay  in  the  balance.  Some  may  think 
that  one  miracle  would  have  decided  it.  But  at  that 
period  no  miracle  occurred.  With  the  ambassa- 
dorship of  His  servant,  the  Lord  was  satisfied  and 
He  was  content  that  His  love  should  be  thus  and 
only  thus  revealed.  It  was  not  with  excellency  of 
speech  that  Paul  pleaded.     He  confesses  that  he 


THE  CHALLENGE  TO  CIVILIZATION    217 

was  in  much  weakness,  in  fear,  in  trembling",  and 
that  he  avoided  enticing  words.  His  sole  aim  was 
that  amid  all  the  cross-currents  of  civilization,  he 
might  set  forth  Christ  Crucified,  a  clear,  solitary, 
compelling  Figure,  unmistakably  visible  to  every 
Corinthian.  If  such  a  life  and  such  a  death  did  not 
win  the  hearts  of  the  Jews,  then,  their  blood  be  on 
their  own  heads — their  blood,  where  Christ's  was 
refused.  They  listened.  They  fully  understood. 
But  they  opposed  Paul  with  that  final  argument — 
**  themselves  " — their  pride,  their  prejudices,  their 
desires.  Not  being  with  Him,  they  were  bound  to 
be  against  Him.  From  mere  resistance,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  aggression  and  aggression  against  Christ 
is  ''  blasphemy."  The  supreme  chance  of  a  rec- 
onciliation broke  down. 

Many  of  us,  writing  of  such  an  event,  would  say 
that,  as  a  missioner,  Paul  was  not  an  entire  success. 
To  use  the  common  expression,  he  did  not  always 
''  put  it  over."  Even  the  Corinthian  Christians 
would  remark  that  while  he  could  write  strong 
enough  letters,  his  bodily  presence  was  weak  and 
his  speech  contemptible.  Paul  did  not  deny  this. 
Indeed  he  asserted  it.  What  he  thought  about 
was,  not  his  voice,  his  physical  advantages,  but  his 
message.  His  case  was  that  however  rough  and 
fragile  might  be  the  earthen  vessel,  it  did,  in  fact, 
contain  the  treasure.  A  man  who  would  only 
accept  Christ  when  offered  with  eloquence,  had  not 
felt  the  need  of  Christ — had  not  appreciated  what 
Christ  was.  He  was  like  a  man  who  throws 
away  a  priceless  jewel  because  it  is  wrapped  in 
brown  paper.  To  the  Jews  of  Corinth,  as  later  to 
the  elders  of  Ephesus,  Paul  declared  simply  that  he 


218     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

was  "  clean,"  that  he  was  "  pure  from  the  blood  of 
all  men,"  that  his  obligations  were  discharged.  He 
was  not  a  virtuoso  winning  applause.  He  was  a 
debtor,  paying  his  way.  And  when  he  had  paid 
what  he  owed  to  the  Jews,  it  was  his  duty,  at 
Corinth  as  at  Antioch,  to  "  turn  to  the  Gentiles,"  to 
whom  also  there  was  a  debt  to  be  wiped  out.  Paul's 
account  with  the  Corinthians  and  also,  I  think, 
with  the  Ephesians,  was  the  more  clear  because  it 
was  his  rule  not  to  take  money  for  preaching  from 
those  whose  hearts  had  yet  to  be  won.  In  his 
ledger,  therefore,  there  were  no  Pauline  items, 
Christ  was  the  only  asset  and  self  the  only  liability. 
The  Jews  of  Corinth  had  heard  doubtless  that  in 
many  places  it  had  been  possible  to  put  an  end  to 
Paul's  propaganda  by  stirring  up  a  riot  against  him. 
Apparently,  it  did  not  occur  to  them  that,  with 
every  such  riot,  Paul  pressed  forward  to  provinces 
hitherto  untouched.  To  fight  spirit  with  matter — 
the  Gospel  with  guns, — Bolshevism  with  bayonets — 
is  a  futile  policy,  and,  at  Corinth,  the  sectarians  dis- 
covered to  their  astonishment  that  the  lamp  of 
progress  was  passing  rapidly  westward.  Issues 
which  loomed  large  in  the  old  world  were  dismissed 
as  trivial  in  the  new.  The  academic  quarrels  which 
convulsed  Iconium  did  not  interest  Gallio,  the  gov- 
ernor of  Achaia.  He  listened  with  impatience  and 
then  drove  the  disputants  from  his  judgment  seat. 
"  Deal  with  the  morals  of  the  people,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  will  pay  attention.  Otherwise,  don't  waste  my 
time."  The  Jews  suddenly  discovered  that  their 
world  was  not  the  whole  world.  With  all  their  in- 
tensity of  conviction,  they  were  a  mere  fraction  of 
the  common  people  whom  Gallio  governed  and  God 


THE  CHALLENGE  TO  CIVILIZATION    219 

loved.  Instinctively,  those  common  people  began 
to  understand  that  if  the  Jews  were  against  Christ, 
it  was  chiefly  because  Christ  was  for  the  Gentiles. 
For  the  first  time,  therefore,  in  the  history  of  the 
faith,  the  Gentiles  turned  on  the  Jews  and  seizing 
Sosthenes,  a  ruler  of  the  synagogue  who  had  op- 
posed Crispus,  they  beat  him,  Gallio  still  remaining 
wholly  unconcerned.  So  began  at  Corinth  the 
dreadful  tale  of  Hebrew  persecution,  of  torture,  of 
massacre,  of  pogroms,  which  continues  unto  this 
day.  Why  the  Jew  should  be  thus  excluded  from 
many  clubs,  confined  in  ghettos  and  often  sus- 
pected or  disliked,  is  a  question  only  to  be  answered 
by  asking  another — why  the  Jew  on  his  side  persists 
in  those  qualities  which  somehow  challenge  his  su- 
preme Leader  and  Martyr? 

With  Paul  driven  out,  all  interest  in  the  syna- 
gogue evaporated.  History  was  transferred  to  a 
little  house,  which  a  man  called  Justus  lent  for  the 
services  of  the  Church.  Justus  worshipped  God 
and  as  the  years  rolled  on,  his  house,  hard  by  the 
synagogue  which  seemed  so  unimportant  to  Jews 
and  Greeks  alike,  grew  into  a  mighty  cathedral — 
St.  Paul's — rising  above  the  metropolis  of  a  mighty 
power, — great  institutions  like  the  Vatican  and  the 
headquarters  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. — vast  tabernacles 
whose  tens  of  thousands  can  hear  the  Gospel  at 
once — noble  abbeys,  enriched  by  the  dust  of  kings 
and  statesmen  and  poets  and  thinkers.  Such  was 
the  triumph  of  the  faith  which  in  a  prosperous  sea- 
port could  be  at  home  in  the  humblest  private 
dwelling. 

Lewdness — said  Gallio,  bluntly — that  is  the  prob- 
lem!    As  the  civil  magistrate,  he  saw  the  corrup- 


220     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET/ 

tioiis  of  a  great  and  wealthy  city.  As  an  apostle, 
so  did  Paul.  His  letters  to  the  Corinthians  were 
written  because  in  the  Church  itself  there  was  this 
lewdness.  The  Christ  therefore  accepted  Gallio's 
challenge,  and  presented  through  Paul  a  new  way 
of  living  and  dreaming  and  thinking.  At  Corinth, 
there  began  the  age-long  battle  by  the  followers  of 
Jesus  against  immorality  and  intemperance,  the 
struggle  of  light  against  darkness,  the  desperate 
endeavour  to  establish  right  living  amid  a  wrong 
environment.  On  social  reform,  Paul's  letters  to 
Corinth  are  the  basic  treatises — the  Newton's  Prin- 
cipia — with  which  all  subsequent  thinking  has  to 
reckon. 

And  Sosthenes,  what  of  him?  It  is  only  by  care- 
ful reading  that  one  can  trace  the  exquisite  thread 
of  the  minor  biographies  in  the  early  Church.  Sos- 
thenes was  a  Jew  with  a  Greek  name,  who  wanted 
and  who  won  the  best  of  both  worlds.  A  ruler  of 
the  synagogue,  he  was  well  known  to  the  Gentiles, 
and  in  the  pogrom,  he  was  seized  and  beaten.  With 
justice  denied  him,  we  can  easily  imagine  the  state 
of  his  mind.  Left  to  himself,  Sosthenes  would  have 
become  the  Jew  of  the  middle  ages,  embittered,  hu- 
miliated, subtle,  but  happily  there  was  in  Corinth  a 
man  who  was  also  a  Jew,  who  had  also  been  beaten, 
who  was  yet  unembittered  and  sincere.  That  man 
was  Paul.  How  he  won  Sosthenes  for  Christ  we 
are  not  told  but  we  have  the  result.  Sosthenes  ac- 
companied Paul  on  his  subsequent  journey  and  it 
was  the  name  of  Sosthenes  that  Paul  included  with 
his  own  in  his  first  letter  to  the  Corinthians. 


XXVI 
THE  FIRST  SCANDAL 

WHEN  Paul  left  Corinth,  there  was  established 
in  that  city  the  supreme  example  of  a 
wealthy  and  successful  Church.  In  every  direction 
you  could  see  a  constant,  even  dazzling  activity. 
Congregations  were  numerous.  Competent  teachers 
expounded  the  Scriptures.  Far-sighted  prophets 
mapped  out  the  future.  People  were  especially 
appointed  to  act  as  doctors  and  nurses  for  the  sick. 
Women's  ministry  was  recognized.  Also,  the 
Church  selected  apostles  or  missionaries,  whose 
chance  of  telling  the  good  news  to  others  was  reck- 
oned by  Paul  to  be  the  most  important  of  all  and 
was  placed  first  among  spiritual  gifts.  Rich  and 
poor  mingled  together.  There  were  many  humble. 
There  were  also  Erastus,  the  city  chamberlain,  and 
Gains,  wealthy  enough  to  offer  hospitality  to  the 
entire  household  of  faith. 

The  pulpits  of  Corinth  were  famous  and  to  re- 
ceive a  call  to  occupy  one  of  them  was  the  ambition 
of  the  clergy.  It  seems  that  Peter,  with  whom  was 
his  wife,  delivered  a  course  of  sermons,  and  a  great 
preacher,  called  Apollos,  trained  at  Alexandria,  was 
recommended  to  Corinth  from  Ephesus.  Church 
members  got  into  the  habit  of  comparing  preachers, 
liking  one  and  disliking  another.     The  absent  are 

221 


222     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

always  wrong  and  in  this  rivalry  Paul's  influence 
was  challenged.  As  preaching  became  eloquent 
and  learned,  the  simplicity  of  Christ,  about  which 
alone  he  cared,  was  obscured.  And  soon  there  be- 
gan to  form  parties  or  sects  which,  if  tolerated, 
would  rend  the  Church  into  schisms. 

At  Pentecost,  the  gift  of  tongues  meant  that  men 
and  women  could  hear  of  the  Redeemer  in  terms 
easily  understood.  But  the  Corinthians  cultivated 
tongues  as  a  performance, — to  mystify  and  to 
please  the  senses;  they  sang  the  melodious  and 
complicated  yet  indistinctly  v/orded  anthem;  they 
listened  to  sonorous  perorations;  they  intoned  a 
Latinized  Litany;  the  more  ignorant  converts 
would  reiterate  well-meant  but  unhelpful  prayers 
and  enthusiastic  yet  self-centred  personal  testi- 
monies. Gradually  the  services  lost  their  especial 
quality  as  disclosures  of  Christ  in  the  midst. 
Women  would  gossip  or  ask  hasty  questions  or  put 
on  extravagant  clothes.  The  Holy  Communion 
became  a  banquet,  whether  of  food  or  of  colour  or 
of  music,  in  which  He  was  apt  to  be  forgotten  Who 
alone  should  have  been  remembered.  The  more 
thoughtful  Corinthians  were  disturbed.  They 
talked  matters  over.  And  finally  they  decided  to 
cfonsult  Paul.  In  difficulty,  children  know  who 
/loves  them  best.  When  the  first  gross  scandal 
burst  over  their  Church,  it  was  not  to  Peter,  it  was 
not  to  Apollos  that  the  Corinthians  turned  for  help. 
They  sent  to  the  apostle  who  had  made  for  them 
the  biggest  sacrifice.  They  had  had  ten  thousand 
instructors,  but  not  many  fathers  in  the  Gospel. 

Paul's  haiidling  of  the  situation  was  masterly. 
First,  he  despatched  Timothy  to  conduct  a  private 


THE  FIRST  SCANDAL  223 

enquiry.  Next,  having  thus  verified  the  facts  and 
sought  a  confidential  remedy  in  vain,  he  entered 
fearlessly  upon  open  diplomacy.  His  earlier  letter 
to  the  Corinthians  is  a  document  which  v^ould  have 
passed  none  save  a  Christian  censor.  With  this  evi- 
dence before  him,  no  one  who  would  accuse  the  dis- 
ciples of  nameless  vices  need  apply  for  proofs  to  the 
lampoons  of  a  satirist.  Paul  is  a  chief  witness  for 
the  prosecution.  So  immeasurably  greater  was  the 
offence  against  God  than  the  offence  against  man 
that  he  did  not  care  very  much  what  man  thought. 
Nothing  was  right  for  Christians  which  was  wrong 
for  others  and  Christian  ethics  were  only  higher 
than  Pagan  ethics  when  Christians  made  them  so.\ 
Also,  Paul  listened  to  no  secret  slander.  If  the 
household  of  Chloe  brought  forward  the  charges,' 
the  household  of  Chloe  must  put  their  names 
thereto.  Every  one  must  know  that  Paul  had  talked 
also  with  Stephanas  and  Fortunatus  and  Achiacus. 
They  who  carried  mere  tittle-tattle  received  short 
shrift  from  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  So  accu- 
rate was  his  diagnosis  of  the  position,  as  set. out  in 
the  first  epistle,  that  it  stands  uncorrected  in  the 
second. 

Every  doctor  knows  that  one  root  of  bitterness 
may  cause  diverse  symptoms.  A  fever  like  measles 
will  at  once  raise  the  temperature  and  cover  the 
skin  with  spots.  A  bad  tooth  will  at  once  swell  the 
face  and  stiffen  the  fingers  with  neuritis.  Paul 
treated  the  Corinthians  with  scientific  skill.  He 
took  all  their  many  troubles — jealousy,  frivolity, 
vice,  gluttony  and  so  on — and  he  reduced  them,  one 
by  one,  to  the  same  cause  within  the  heart.  Read 
the  first  Corinthian  epistle,  chapter  by  chapter,  and 


224     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

note  the  unerring  wisdom  with  which  every  evil  is 
traced  to  a  single  origin.  Sum  up  these  glowing 
jchapters  and  they  mean  that  the  people  were  as- 
/serting  themselves  instead  of  holding  forth  the 
Christ.  The  dress,  the  gossip,  the  feasts,  the  mir- 
acles, the  incest  were  all  a  kind  of  egotism  and  the 
difference  between  a  selfish  bazaar  and  a  selfish 
drinking  bout  was  only  in  form.  Even  over  the 
resurrection,  there  were  disputes  which,  though 
theological  in  form,  only  implied  a  battle  between 
self  and  self.  Since  nature  abhors  a  vacuum,  it 
follows  that  Christ  cannot  be  absent  in  any  measure 
from  our  being  without  something  or  some  one 
else  taking  His  place.  Since  the  reason  for  all  our 
troubles  is  our  distance  from  Him,  the  remedy  for 
all  trouble  must  be  to  set  Him  once  more  in  the 
midst  and  think  out  our  affairs  with  Him  for  Guide. 
The  two  letters  to  the  Corinthians  show  us  how 
even  the  most  painful  problems  may  be  solved  by 
bringing  the  minds  of  men  and  their  wills  back  to 
the  attitude  of  reverence  for  the  inner  and  often 
hidden  majesty  of  the  Redeemer. 

In  every  age  people  have  denounced  the  worldli- 
ness  and  wickedness  of  the  Church.  Historians 
have  written  about  the  decay  of  religion  either  with 
cold  precision  or  with  picturesque  art.  Cynics  like 
Voltaire  have  revelled  cheaply  in  the  failure  of  a 
goodness  to  which  they  did  not  themselves  trouble 
to  aspire.  In  the  vices  of  their  neighbours 
preachers  have  often  found  a  suitable  if  shallow 
field  for  pulpit  eloquence,  and  pastors  have  resigned 
because  "  no  Christian  can  preach  to  a  fashionable 
congregation."  The  disciples  also  knew  how  and 
when   to   let   loose  the   flood-gates   of   their  zeal 


THE  FIRST  SCANDAL  226 

against  depravity.  Their  schedule  of  prohibition,^ 
as  defined  in  several  of  the  extant  writings,  was 
more  drastic  by  far  than  any  yet  applied  to  a  mod- 
ern state.  James  laid  it  down  that  friendship  with 
'*  society  "  is  enmity  against  God.  Peter  held  that 
presumptuous  and  self-willed  men  who  walk  after 
the  flesh  in  the  lust  of  uncleanliness  and  speak  evil 
of  dignities,  shall  utterly  perish  in  their  own  corrup- 
tion. Jude  declared  that  the  sensual  person  has 
not  the  Spirit.  John  identified  a  deceiver  of  the 
Church  with  anti-Christ  and  told  the  elect  lady  not 
to  show  him  hospitality  since  any  one  bidding  him 
Godspeed  is  partaker  of  his  evil  deeds.  And 
finally,  in  the  Apocalypse  the  situation  of  evil-doers 
who  persist  to  the  end  is  defined  with  appalHng 
lucidity.  The  unjust  man  may  remain  unjust,  the 
filthy  man  may  remain  filthy,  but  the  time  must 
come  when  the  dogs  and  the  sorcerers  and  the 
whoremongers  and  the  murderers  and  the  idolaters 
and  whatsoever  loveth  and  maketh  a  lie  shall  be 
shut  out  from  the  City  of  God.  Our  Lord's  com- 
mand that  if  thy  hand  ofifend  thee,  then  cut  it  offw 
may  seem  severe  but  surgery  has  justified  this  treat-i 
ment.  In  hospitals  it  is  done  every  day.  Writing 
to  Corinth,  Paul  applied  this  rule  to  personal  habits. 
Far  better,  said  he,  that  we  eat  no  meat  at  all  than 
cause  a  brother  to  stumble.  What  is  sold  in  the 
shambles  may  be  as  innocent  as  industrial  alcohol, 
but,  none  the  less,  eating  and  drinking  will  do  harm 
unless  the  aim  be  to  glorify  God.  It  was  a  banquet 
at  Versailles  that  stimulated  the  terror  in  Paris.  A 
simple  diet  may  save  the  community  from  social 
revolution.  Paul's  condemnation  of  evil  spared  no 
one,  not  even  himself.     When  he  wrote  to  Corinth 


226     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

he  was  like  a  physician  who  is  called  upon  suddenly 
to  inflict  an  agonizing  operation  on  his  own  wife. 
By  every  one  of  his  strokes  he  was  wounding  his 
own  flesh.  And  in  his  second  letter,  when  the 
Church  was  out  of  danger,  he  confesses  to  his  much 
affliction,  his  anguish  of  heart  and  his  many  tears. 
His  fear  was  that  under  the  sting  of  his  censure  the 
converts  might  doubt  his  affection  and  there  is  an 
exquisite  tenderness  in  the  way  in  which  at  the 
end  of  his  first  letter  he  offers  them  the  grace  of 
Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  then  adds  My  love  be 
with  you  all  in  Christ  Jesus,  It  was  perhaps  the  only 
time  that  Paul  thus  sent  his  love,  and  even  here  he 
was  showing  forth  the  suffering  of  the  Saviour. 
Confronted  by  the  sins  of  men,  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
argued,  appealed,  denounced  and  worked  miracles 
of  restoration.  All  this  failed  and,  at  Calvary, 
there  was  only  one  thing  that  He  could  do,  and  that 
was  to  lay  bare  His  breast  and  with  hands  and  feet 
helpless,  with  lips  too  parched  to  persuade  men 
further,  allow  the  world  to  watch  the  beating  of  His 
very  heart.  Similar  to  this  was  Paul's  conduct  to 
the  Corinthians.  After  blushing  bitterly  at  the  ex- 
posure of  their  wrong-doing  he  wrote  them  a  sec- 
ond letter  of  uttermost  comfort,  born  of  his  own 
pain. 

If  the  pastor  of  one  of  our  churches  had  taken  his 
people  to  task  for  the  many  faults  which  Paul  had 
found  in  the  church  at  Corinth  I  wonder  what 
would  have  been  the  effect  upon  his  pew  rents.  I 
am  not  surprised  that  many  Corinthians  threatened 
revolt.  Those  who  did  not  repent  of  the  sins  that 
they  had  committed  took  offence.  Echoes  reached 
the  apostles  of  debates,  envyings,  irritation,  secret 


THE  FIKST  SCANDAL  227 

and  open  slanders.  This  being  so,  there  arose  in  an 
acute  form  the  question  whether  a  church  is  subject 
to  authority.  If  Paul  had  belonged  to  certain 
catholic  communions  he  would  have  laid  claim  to 
an  ecclesiastical  appointment.  He  did  indeed  de- 
clare that  in  nothing  was  he  behind  the  very  chief- 
est  of  apostles  but  he  based  his  power  with  God  and 
with  man  on  one  thing  only,  and  that  was  his  ex- 
perience of  Christ.  With  Christ  he  had  suffered. 
For  Christ  he  had  toiled  and  travelled.  Of  Christ 
he  had  seen  the  vision.  And  by  the  grace  of  Christ 
he  had  conquered  infirmity.  Tearing  aside  his 
natural  reticence,  pocketing  his  patrician  pride,  he 
boasted  like  a  fool  because  only  thus  could  he  boast 
of  the  Redeemer,  Whose  thorn  rankled  in  his  side. 
The  appeal  went  home.  A  few  of  the  Corin- 
thians continued  to  backbite,  but  the  many  honour- 
ably repented.  A  year  or  two  before  they  had  been 
sunk  in  paganism, — they  had  known  nothing  even 
of  the  Old  Testament — their  very  religion  had  been 
vice.  Yet  at  Paul's  rebuke  their  hearts  were 
touched  with  a  genuine  sorrow  for  sin.  Their 
minds  were  changed.  Of  their  conduct,  they  be- 
came infinitely  careful.  They  cleared  themselves 
of  evil.  Indignation,  fear,  desire,  zeal,  and  a  sense 
of  justice  inspired  their  reforms.  So  far  as  we 
know,  not  one  of  these  men  left  the  Church  for  an- 
other less  exacting.  Not  one  reduced  his  tithe. 
Indeed,  it  is  characteristic  of  Paul's  glorious  audac- 
ity that  he  accompanied  his  rebuke  here,  as  of  the 
Galatians,  with  a  request  that  the  strong  bear  the 
burdens  of  the  weak — that  collection  be  made  for 
poor  saints  in  Jerusalem.  I  do  not  find  in  the  early 
Church  any  apostolic  anxiety  to  keep  men  in  mem- 


228     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

bership  who  wanted  to  go  out.  No  club  ever 
formed  was  more  sensible  of  its  privileges — more 
jealous  of  its  dignity.  What  terrified  the  disciples 
was  the  dread  that  conceivably  they  might  forfeit 
their  communion.  And  they  compared  this  fate  to 
the  fall  of  lost  angels  from  heaven,  to  the  blackness 
of  darkness  forever. 

Thinking  about  this  lofty  sense  of  what  disciple- 
ship  means — how  negligible  is  all  else  by  compari- 
son— I  am  at  a  loss  to  explain  such  a  phenomenon, 
so  rapidly  developed  in  a  city  like  Corinth,  ex- 
cept as  a  proof  that  the  Gospel  is,  in  very  fact, 
what  Paul  had  called  it,  the  pozver  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion. When  Paul  faced  the  world,  he  offered  not  a 
compromise  but  an  alternative.  On  the  Corin- 
thians, in  their  shame  and  disgrace,  he  poured  forth 
yet  more  abundantly  the  treasures  of  his  spiritual 
resources.  It  was  to  them  that  he  declared  for  all 
time  the  mystery  of  the  resurrection.  It  was  to 
them  that  he  described  for  all  time  the  Holy  Com- 
munion. It  was  to  them  that  he  set  forth,  in  a 
passage  which  secular  criticism  regards  as  immor- 
tal, what  God  means  by  love.  In  the  worst  of  these 
men  he  assumed  a  capacity  for  the  best,  and  his 
faith  was  not  disappointed.  From  the  worst,  the 
best  did  emerge. 

In  one  glaring  instance,  a  son  had  taken  his 
father's  wife  and  Paul  went  so  far  as  to  consign  the 
man  to  Satan  for  the  destruction  of  his  flesh.  The 
choice  before  this  fellow  was  excommunication  or 
surrender.  On  the  one  side  was  the  world  of  Cor- 
inth with  its  gaiety  and  its  tolerance.  On  the  other 
side  was  the  little  society  of  the  faithful  with  their 
stern  disapproval.     The  man  had  to  decide  living 


THE  FIRST  SCANDAL  229 

where  nothing  would  be  said  and  living  where 
everything  would  be  said— between  people  whose 
private  life  was  nothing  and  people  to  whom  noth- 
ing mattered  except  private  hfe.  It  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  great  struggle  between  Christian  stand- 
ards and  secular  customs— the  struggle  imperfectly 
expressed  in  the  battles  between  Popes  and  Em- 
perors—and at  Corinth  the  offender  stepped  hum- 
bly to  his  Canossa.  If  Paul  had  been  Pope  Hilde- 
brand,  he  would  have  kept  him  waiting  for  three 
days  in  the  snow;  that  also  was  the  idea  of  the  Cor- 
inthians. He  had  caused  them  no  end  of  grief. 
He  had  brought  them  into  disgrace.  The  church 
which  actually  included  Erastus,  the  public  treas- 
urer of  the  city,  was  humiliated  and  raised  its  eye- 
brows. But  Paul,  who  had  been  pained  more  than 
any  of  them,  took  back  the  offender  to  his  very 
heart.  For  a  penitent  man,  there  was,  as  he  knew, 
ample  room  in  the  heart  of  the  One  Lord. 

So  ends  what  we  know  about  the  scandals  of 
Corinth.  Other  matters  are  mentioned  in  the  epis- 
tles to  more  than  one  church,  but  not  this.  With 
Corinth,  as  with  Galatia,  Paul  dealt  direct  with 
those  who  were  at  fault  but  wrote  not  an  iota  about 
the  affair  to  others  whom  it  did  not  concern.  What 
admirable  gossip  it  would  have  made,  let  us  sup- 
pose, for  the  Romans,  or  the  Phihppians,  or  the 
Colossians!  How  apt  an  example  for  the  Ephe- 
sians !  Paul  kept  silent.  Even  in  the  Acts,  where 
the  possibility  of  Timothy  visiting  Corinth  is  re- 
corded, there  is  no  allusion  to  the  object  which  he 
had  in  view.  No  paragraph  appeared  in  the  relig- 
ious press.  No  note  was  written  for  the  diocesan 
report.     Love  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  and  while 


230     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

insisting  on  the  truth  beareth  all  things,  believeth 
all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  and  last  but  not  least 
endureth  all  things.  Paul's  aim  was  edification, 
not  destruction, — building  up,  not  pulling  down, 
and,  in  saying  good-bye  to  his  friends,  he  tells  them 
to  be  perfect,  of  good  comfort,  of  one  mind,  to  live 
in  peace. 

In  drafting  this  brief  note  on  Paul's  diffi- 
culties at  Corinth,  I  sometimes  have  thought  that 
nothing  is  needed  for  a  spiritual  revival  within  our 
\churches  save  that  ministers  and  laity  alike, — for  in 
this  respect  Paul  drew  no  distinction  between  them 
— should  devote  a  week  or  two  to  realizing  in  its 
fullness  Paul's  pastoral  solicitude  for  this  one 
tempted  and  essentially  modern  community  of 
saints.  In  those  epistles,  you  find  that  sense  of 
social  obligation  which  is  illustrated  in  George 
Herbert's  famous  essays  on  the  character  of  a  coun- 
try parson.  No  officer  in  the  church,  if  so  inspired, 
can  fail  of  the  mission  entrusted  to  him,  whether  it 
be  the  pulpit,  the  altar,  the  Sunday  School,  the  hos- 
pital or  merely  doorkeeping  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord. 


XXVII 
THE  CONQUEST  OF  MYSTICISM 

HOWEVER  absorbing  be  our  politics,  our 
wars  and  our  pleasures,  there  will  always  be 
men  and  women,  millions  and  millions  of  them,  who 
will  yearn  for  something  more  than  these, — some 
unseen  reality — some  mystical  clue  to  their  strange 
and  often  sad  existence.  Thousands  enter  monastic 
institutions  every  year,  not  only  in  Christian  lands 
but  in  the  East.  Thousands  practice  spirituaUsm 
and  organize  dubious  seances.  And  happily  there 
are  also  thousands  who  have  found  in  Christ  the 
answer  to  their  questions. 

In  the  Roman  Empire  we  find  exactly  the  same 
craving  for  mysticism.  "Asia  "  was  not  then  a  con- 
tinent but  a  little  province,  clinging  to  the  coast  of 
the  ^gean,  where  the  people,  half  Greek  and  half 
Oriental,  hardly  knew  what  faith  to  adopt  but  did 
earnestly  seek  some  clue  to  their  soul's  secret. 
With  infinite  labour,  they  had  built  for  themselves  a 
mighty  temple  to  a  corrupt  Diana.  As  mascots  and 
charms,  they  carried  silver  images  of  the  goddess, 
so  acknowledging  the  Unseen  without  understand- 
ing the  nature  of  It,  which  is  the  essence  of  super- 
stition. Like  the  mediaeval  alchemist  and  many 
elaborators  to-day  of  prophetic  and  eschatological 
systems,  they  collected  curious  books,  even  prac- 

231 


232     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

ticed  perilous  arts,  and  as  they  felt  blindly  in  un- 
seen space,  they  even  took  chances  on  the  Devil. 
It  was  a  pathetic  spectacle — this  sincere,  elaborate, 
futile,  groping  for  the  Light.  Often  the  search 
ended  in  quagmires  of  deception  and  immorality. 
But  it  was  none  the  less  a  real  search,  a  true  quest 
for  the  one  ultimate  Companionship. 

At  first,  Paul  was  frankly  unsympathetic.  His 
mind  was  directed  to  Rome,  Spain,  the  boundless 
and  rapidly  advancing  West.  There,  as  he  thought, 
lay  the  future  of  mankind  and  of  the  Christian 
Cause.  The  Spirit  within  him  would  not  permit 
him  to  turn  aside  to  this  little  Asiatic  community — 
this  Tibet  or  Korea  or  Siam.  When  he  reached 
Troas  he  pressed  forward  into  Macedonia,  leaving 
Ephesus  behind.  Even  when  he  was  returning  by 
way  of  Ephesus  to  Jerusalem  for  the  feast,  he  only 
paid  a  hurried  call,  spoke  once  or  twice,  and  gave  a 
promise,  conditional  upon  God's  will,  that  he  would 
return  when  the  feast  was  over.  It  did  not  occur 
to  Paul  that  Ephesus  would  be  his  home  for  three 
years,  the  very  climax  of  his  missionary  career — 
that  Ephesus  would  claim  his  dearly  beloved 
Timothy  as  pastor  and  Bishop — that  Trophimus  the 
Ephesian  would  cost  him  his  life — that  to  Ephesus 
and  Colosse  near  by  he  would  write  his  two  pro- 
foundest  epistles — that  in  the  Ephesian  Asia  would 
arise  not  one  Church  but  seven — and  that  dwelling 
amid  these  seven  churches,  as  a  priest  dwells 
among  the  seven  lampstands  before  the  throne  of 
his  God,  John  the  apostle  would  unfold  in  one 
gorgeous  tapestry  of  symbolism  the  sombre  and 
splendid  glories  of  divine  Providence  and  human 
destiny. 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  MYSTICISM        233 

What  drew  Ephesus,  as  India  and  China  and 
Korea  are  drawn  to-day,  into  the  glorious  ambit  of^^ 
Christian  revelation  was  a  readiness  to  listen — a 
thirst  for  God.  Not  only  did  they  hear  Paul  eagerly 
whenever  he  addressed  them  but  they  welcomed 
Apollos.  He  came  to  the  city  from  Alexandria,  as 
a  reform  or  liberal  Jew — as  a  Jew  who  believed  that 
his  faith  was  meant  to  help  the  world  to-day — and 
a  few  conversations  between  Apollos  and  Aquila 
and  Priscilla,  who  had  also  been  reform  Jews,  con- 
vinced Apollos  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  the 
Messiah,  so  long  awaited.  This  he  declared  and 
about  twelve  men  believed  him.  Like  Jesus,  they 
were  baptized  into  John's  baptism.  They  con- 
fessed their  sins.  They  gave  up  worldly  habits. 
They  established  in  their  hearts  the  non-conformist 
conscience,  the  Puritan  Sabbath,  the  protest  against 
theatre,  and  alcohol,  and  gambling.  The  Christ 
Who  denied  Himself  became  their  Christ  and  in 
giving  up  their  pleasures  for  His  sake  they  showed 
their  love  and  gratitude,  they  declared  their  salva- 
tion. The  Christ  Who  brings  joy  and  laughter  and 
happiness  was  for  them,  however,  a  future  Friend, 
sung  about  in  hymns,  waiting  for  the  saints  to  join 
Him  in  heaven  above,  but  not  yet  a  present,  an 
actual  possession.  Sundays  were  dull.  People  ac- 
cused the  converts  of  living  as  kill-joys,  of  con- 
demning the  customs  of  others  without  suggesting 
better,  and  the  number  of  Christians  therefore  re- 
mained about  twelve — it  was  stationary.  All  the 
eloquence  of  Apollos  and  his  zeal  could  not  increase 
the  company  of  the  faithful.  The  long  face  did  not 
attract.     People  preferred  to  sin  with  a  smile. 

Paul  saw  at  once  what  was  the  matter.     Rejoice^ 


234     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

he  would  write  to  the  PhiHppians,  and  again  I  say 
rejoice.  Do  not  be  content  with  believing  in  the 
Lord,  and  confessing  to  the  Lord,  and  serving  the 
Lord,  but  rejoice  in  the  Lord — have  a  good  time  be- 
cause He  is  with  you — enjoy  a  jest — spread  good 
cheer — receive  the  Holy,  the  Happy  Spirit — sit 
with  Christ  in  heavenly,  which  means  happy  places 
— revel  in  goodness  and  exult.  John's  baptism  is 
admirable,  but  don't  throw  cold  water  on  yourself 
all  the  time.  You  are  truly  buried  with  Christ  in 
baptism,  but  remember  that  He  rose  again,  ate 
broiled  fish  and  honey  from  the  comb,  prepared  hot 
breakfast  for  His  apostles,  and  talked  so  brilliantly 
that  their  hearts  glowed.  In  Him,  you  also  may  be 
as  excellent  company  as  He  was. 

This  was  the  Spirit  that  these  twelve  Ephesians 
received.  They  needed  Him  as  much  as  but  no 
more  than  the  apostles  themselves.  He  was  given 
to  them,  precisely  as  to  the  apostles,  and  with  pre- 
cisely the  same  results.  He  was  thus  made  the  uni- 
versal Companion  of  all  who  wish  to  help  Christ  in 
His  task  of  brightening  the  homes  and  the  hearts 
of  men  and  women.  Their  outward  ceremony  was 
Paul  laying  his  hands  on  their  heads.  Your  out- 
ward ceremony  may  be  reading  a  book  or  hearing 
an  address.  In  all  cases,  the  ceremony  means  the 
same  thing — that  as  children  are  fondled  on  the 
head*  as  children  study  a  lesson  book  or  sit  in  school 
to  be  taught  a  lesson,  so  must  we  as  children  wel- 
come the  Holy  Spirit. 

And  as  children,  we  then  learn  to  lisp  the  lan- 
guage of  Christ.  With  happiness  in  their  hearts, 
these  Ephesians  conversed  in  a  new  vein — they  in- 
terested    others — prophesied,     said     things     that 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  MYSICTISM        235 

sounded  fresh,  unexpected, — that  illuminated  men's 
countenances — explained  men's  problems.  Paul's 
own  strength  was  invigorated.  On  the  cricket 
ground,  there  is  a  saying  that  good  fielding 
makes  weak  bowling  strong  and  strong  batting 
weak.  I  imagine  that  to  baseball  also  the  prov- 
erb may  be  applied.  It  is  the  practice  of 
Charles  M.  Schwab  to  refer  to  his  work-people 
as  colleagues  who  serve,  not  under  but  with 
him.  This  was  what  happened  at  Ephesus.  The 
witness  of  the  congregation  emboldened  the  pastor. 
Because  they  were  at  his  back,  Paul  argued  in  the 
synagogue  with  ever  growing  courage.  His  friends 
talked  up  the  cause  of  Christ  because  it  was  their 
own.  As  in  other  places,  Judaism  closed  its  doors, 
but  this  no  longer  mattered.  The  school  of  Tyran- 
nus  was  available.  It  made  no  difference  what  hall 
was  hired  provided  that  Christ  was  the  offered  gift 
to  men.  For  two  years  the  mission  continued.  But 
with  mere  listening,  the  new  disciples  were  not  con- 
tent. They  walked  forth  from  Ephesus,  visited  the 
towns  near  by,  started  churches  not  less  zealous,  not 
less  promising,  at  centres  never  seen,  so  far  as  we 
know,  by  Paul — Philadelphia,  Laodicea,  Smyrna, 
Pergamos,  Thyatira  and  Sardis.  There  were  also 
Colosse,  and  Troas,  and  other  strongholds  of  the 
one  triumphant  evangel.  This  was  not  Paul's  sole 
work,  for  no  one  man  could  have  accomplished  it. 
It  was  the  work  of  the  accepted  and  active  Spirit. 
It  was  the  word  of  God  that  mightily  grew  and  pre- 
vailed. 

Paul's  situation  at  this  time  was  truly  astonish- 
ing. At  Corinth,  they  were  trying  their  utmost  to 
discredit  him.    In  Galatia,  there  was  a  strong  move- 


236     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

ment  to  destroy  him.  He  was  attacked  from  both 
sides,  by  those  in  Achaia  who  desired  Ucense  and 
those  in  Judea  who  imposed  bondage ;  and  his  heart 
was  broken  by  the  letter  of  condemnation  which  he 
had  just  written  to  the  Corinthians.  His  utmost 
success  was  thus  the  cUmax  of  sorrow  and  his  big- 
gest victory  cost  him  the  most  dearly.  It  was 
Ephesus  that,  as  we  shall  see,  robbed  him  of  hfe 
itself. 

By  nature,  Paul  was  hardly  a  great  organizer. 
Despotic  in  temper,  fanatical  in  impulse,  he  carried 
things  through  by  his  own  sheer  force  of  will.  We 
have  noticed  how  for  a  time  he  lost  John  Mark  and 
broke  with  Barnabas.  But,  as  years  passed,  he 
gathered  around  him  an  incomparable  band  of 
comrades, — Timothy,  Luke,  Silas  and  the  rest — to 
whom  he  readily  entrusted  tasks,  like  dealing  with 
Corinth,  of  the  utmost  delicacy  and  importance. 
The  secret  of  Paul's  influence  over  these  men  was 
simple  enough.  As  Christ  confided  in  him,  so  he 
confided  in  them,  relying  absolutely  on  their  readi- 
ness to  do  for  Christ  whatever  he  himself  would  do. 
He  used  the  layman,  expected  of  the  layman  his 
own  standard  of  service,  and  the  layman  followed 
him  to  the  lion's  mouth. 

Hence  his  difficulty  over  the  Gentiles.  Timothy 
he  had  circumcised.  On  Titus  he  laid  no  such 
burden,  and  the  Jewish  converts  began  to  murmur. 
Now  arose  a  third  case,  more  critical  still,  and  Paul 
did  not  flinch.  The  young  man's  name  was  Trophi- 
mus  and  he  was  plainly  an  Ephesian,  with  no  pre- 
tension of  any  kind  to  Abraham  and  Isaac  and 
Jacob.  He  wished  to  join  Paul  and  Paul  welcomed 
him.     Years  later,  Paul  mentioned  him  as  an  asso- 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  MYSTICISM        237 

ciate  in  travel  whom  he  left  at  Miletus  sick.  The 
question  was  whether  Trophimus  should  go  with 
Paul  to  Jerusalem,  as  well  as  to  other  places,  and 
even  enter  the  Temple.  Was  the  layman  to  be  al- 
lowed within  the  communion  rails?  Was  man  as 
man  the  shrine  of  God  or  was  a  certain  man  or  a 
class  of  men  the  shrine  because  they  were  priests 
and  ordained,  by  hereditary  or  other  succession? 
Paul  did  not  hesitate.  He  was  as  friendly  with 
Trophimus  in  Jerusalem  as  he  had  been  friendly 
with  him  in  Ephesus.  Race  and  colour  made  no 
difference. 

The  penalty  which  Paul  paid  will  be  described 
later.  The  point  here  is  that  Ephesus  rallied 
around  a  missionary  who,  Hke  our  modern  mission- 
aries, was  a  tribune  of  the  people  against  privilege, 
a  vindicator  of  social  and  international  equity.  He, 
who  was  the  same  man  at  Jerusalem  as  he  had  been 
at  Ephesus,  whose  fidelity  was  proof  against  the 
seductions  of  environment,  found  himself  suddenly 
endowed,  owing  to  no  volition  of  his  own,  with 
powers  which  were  according  to  their  faith.  They 
wanted  Paul  to  write  in  their  albums,  to  bless  their 
prayer  books  and  Bibles,  and  to  heal  their  sick. 
For  this  purpose,  they  took  aprons  and  napkins 
from  his  body  and  these  became  the  symbols  of  the 
miraculous. 

In  the  days  of  her  first  love,  the  Ephesian  Church 
was  no  more  infallible  than  she  proved  to  be  later 
when  she  tolerated  the  Nicolaitines  whom  God  con- 
demns. Here  was  manifestly  the  beginning  of  that 
use  of  relics  which  we  find  at  Lourdes  and  other 
places.  The  one  question  was  whether  there  was 
behind  the  napkins  and  aprons  a  living  or  a  dead 


238     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

man,  and  within  the  man,  a  living  or  a  dead  Christ. 
In  Paul  Christ  was  alive,  and  it  was  the  living 
Christ  that  wrought  the  special  signs.  So  inspired 
by  Christ,  Paul  was  at  that  moment  a  dictator. 
On  the  superstitions  of  Ephesus  he  might  have 
built  a  vast  fabric  of  ecclesiastical  ceremony,  sur- 
rounding himself  with  the  gorgeous  raiment  of  a 
mediaeval  prelate.  He  refrained.  He  so  taught 
the  believers  that  they  threw  off  their  old  ideas,  sur- 
rendered their  curious  arts  and  made  bonfires  of 
their  books,  to  the  immense  sum  of  fifty  thousand 
pieces  of  silver.  So  complete  was  the  emancipation 
of  the  intellect  that  after  this  conflagration  we  hear 
no  more  of  them  using  napkins  and  aprons  as 
charms  against  disease.  In  writing  to  the  Ephe- 
sians,  Paul  substitutes  for  such  devices  the  Chris- 
tian Armour,  acquired  not  from  some  saint  at  some 
shrine,  but  received  from  God  direct  and  put  on  by 
the  warrior  himself,  with  his  own  hands,  because 
his  heart  is  great,  with  the  indwelling  Captain  of 
Salvation.  The  impotence  which  applied  aprons 
and  napkins  was  transformed  into  the  power  which 
girds  the  loins  with  truth,  bears  proudly  the  shield 
of  faith,  carries  aloft  the  saving  helmet  and  wields, 
hither  and  thither,  the  two-edged  sword  of  the 
Spirit.  In  that  same  letter,  Paul,  the  wonder 
worker,  calls  himself  ''  less  than  the  least  of  all  the 
saints  "  and  the  Spirit,  writing  to  Ephesus  from 
Patmos,  does  not  even  mention  him.  So  magnifi- 
cent was  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  that  they  for- 
got every  other. 

The  temple  of  Ephesus  has  long  since  disap- 
peared. If  the  goddess  Diana  survives,  it  is  be- 
cause she  is  a  much  more  recent  and  attractive  per- 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  MYSTICISM        239 

sonage  than  her  wooden  prototype.  But  the  name 
of  Ephesus  lives  on,  Uke  the  name  of  Gettysburg  or 
Verdun,  because  here  was  fought  to  a  finish  one  of 
the  decisive  battles  in  this  planet  for  human  happi- 
ness. The  Jews  who  lived  by  exorcism  were  doubt- 
less vagabonds,  but  at  least  they  understood  the 
issue.  They  did  not  go  about  pretending  that  all 
the  devils  died  with  Darwin.  And  they  knew  that 
Jesus,  as  preached  by  Paul, — ^Jesus  in  the  fullness 
of  His  Divinity — could  alone  eradicate  diabolism 
from  men's  hearts.  They  realized  that  a  change  of 
system  hardly  affected  the  inner  evil.  The  only 
thing  wrong  with  Sceva  and  his  seven  sons  was  that 
they  tried  to  do  Christian  deeds  without  possessing 
the  Christian  power.  And,  confronted  by  such 
well-meaning  impotence,  the  devils  leapt  on  them, 
tore  the  clothes  from  their  backs,  and  left  them 
naked  of  all  pretensions  to  influence.  Society 
turned  them  out  of  the  house,  wounded  and  help- 
less, so  rebeUing  against  an  idealism  which  chal- 
lenged abuses,  only  to  leave  abuses  triumphant. 
The  devils  were  candid  enough.  Jesus  they  knew 
and  Paul  they  knew,  but  who  are  ye?  Who  is 
Lenine?  Who  is  Gorki?  Who  is  Trotski?  Who 
is  Robespierre?  Who  is  Karl  Marx?  What  soul 
have  they  ever  delivered?  Face  the  reckoning — 
who  are  they? 

The  failure  of  Sceva  and  his  seven  sons  left  Christ 
as  the  one  sole  supreme  hope  of  the  city.  And 
then  arose  the  inevitable  stir  which  troubles  every 
society,  as  dimly  men  discern  what  the  claim  of 
Christ  really  means.  Sceva  the  Jew  was  succeeded 
by  the  Jewish  metal  merchant,  Alexander  the  Cop- 
persmith, and  frankly  Paul  feared  his  mischief  the 


240  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

more.  As  instrument  of  error,  Sceva  was  for- 
midable, but  much  that  Sceva  said  when  he  de- 
nounced devils  like  avarice,  was  perfectly  true, 
whereas  Alexander  subordinated  God  and  Devil 
alike  to  money,  dividends,  profits.  His  trade  was 
not  directly  attacked.  It  was  the  silversmiths,  not 
the  coppersmiths,  who  made  images  of  Diana  and 
sold  them.  Alexander  was  the  vested  interest  that 
keeps  in  the  background,  financing  parties,  subsidiz- 
ing newspapers,  and  putting  useful  arguments  into 
the  mouths  of  other  and  less  sagacious  soap-box 
orators.  It  was  Demetrius  not  Alexander  who 
seemed  to  lead  that  riot.  It  was  Alexander  and 
not  Demetrius  who  pulled  the  wires. 

Into  the  theatre  rushed  the  crowds,  shouting, 
Great  is  Diana  of  the  Bphesians.  And  this  was  quite 
correct.  Whatever  the  deathless  spirit  of  man 
agrees  to  worship  is  in  that  sense  great.  It  means 
much — either  of  good  or  of  evil.  As  ''  the  town 
clerk  "  told  them,  nobody  denied  it.  Here  was  de- 
mocracy in  violent  palpitation,  fully  awake,  enjoy- 
ing utter  freedom  of  speech,  complete  immunity 
from  despotic  guidance.  Yet  something  was  lack- 
ing and  this  something  was  an  aim,  direction, 
objective.  In  startling  contrast  to  the  unity  in 
Christ,  some  said  one  thing  and  some  said  another. 
The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  dismiss  the  people,  to 
dissolve  the  plebiscite,  and  to  return  to  a  lawful 
assembly,  an  ordered  constitution,  a  bourgeois  Par- 
liament. 

Who  would  have  thought  that  those  uproarious 
fellows,  shouting  themselves  hoarse,  and  not  know- 
ing what  they  shouted  about,  were  born  and  bred 
in    the   same    city,    speaking   the   same   language, 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  MYSTICISM        241 

breathing  the  same  air  as  the  Christians?  It  is  a 
contrast  almost  unbeUevable.  From  the  scene  in 
that  theatre,  turn  the  page  rapidly  to  the  message 
of  the  Angel,  who  solemnly  testified,  "/  know  thy 
zvorkSj  and  thy  laboiiVj  and  thy  patience^  and  how  thou 
canst  not  bear  them  zvhich  are  evil;  and  thou  hast  tried 
them  zvhich  say  they  are  apostles,  and  are  not,  and  hast 
found  them  liars:  and  hast  patience  and  for  my  name's 
sake  hast  laboured  and  hast  not  fainted.''  So  noble  was 
the  influence  of  that  apostle,  the  prisoner  of  the 
Lord,  who  bade  the  Ephesians  to  walk  worthy  of 
the  vocation  wherewith  they  were  called. 


XXVIII 
THE  HOPE  OF  HIS  COMING 

MANY  persons  have  spent  a  lifetime  of  study 
and  enjoyment  of  those  passages  in  the  Bible 
which  tell  us  that  the  day  must  dawn  when  Jesus, 
the  Christ,  will  come  back  to  this  earth.  No  pic- 
ture of  the  first  disciples  would  be  true  and  perfect 
which  failed  to  include  in  their  mental  equipment 
this  brightest  of  hopes.  So  dearly  did  they  love 
Our  Lord's  bodily  presence  that  they  longed  to 
meet  Him  again  in  His  very  person.  As  men  have 
said,  "  O  for  an  hour  of  Gladstone,"  or  "  of  Lin- 
coln,"— so  did  these  followers  of  the  Christ  pray, 
*'  Come,  Lord  Jesus."  Conscious  of  the  Christ 
within  them,  they  wanted  Him  everywhere,  and  to 
this  extent  their  wish  was  father  to  their  thought. 
It  was  a  noble  wish.  To  yearn  for  the  best  is  to 
live  for  the  best.     Our  longings  govern  our  deeds. 

In  an  expressive  phrase,  there  are  topics  that 
contain  ''  dynamite,"  and  the  Second  Advent  has 
always  been  one  of  them.  Many  of  the  disciples 
were  filled,  as  some  saints  of  our  own  day  are  filled, 
with  that  curiosity  which,  in  mundane  matters, 
leads  journalists  to  seek  some  confidential  piece  of 
news,  some  special  information,  or  as  it  is  put  in 
my  irreverent  profession,  "  a  scoop."  Not  less  hu- 
man were  the  disciples.  They  also  wanted  to  know 
about  times  and  seasons.     They  tried  to  put  a  date 

242 


THE  HOPE  OF  HIS  COMING  243 

to  the  millennium  and  mark  down  in  their  perpetual 
calendar  the  dreadful  ultimatum  of  the  second 
death.  To  the  risen  Lord  Himself  they  addressed 
questions— as  it  were,  they  interviewed  Him— and 
He  firmly  decUned  to  share  with  them  His  Father's 
secret.  Power  for  the  present  was  His  gift, — a  call 
to  immediate  service— not  speculations  of  the  fu- 
ture. They  were  to  go  into  all  the  world  and  pre- 
pare the  hearts  of  men  to  receive  Him,  whenever  in 
His  own  good  time  He  should  come  back. 

Some  scholars  tell  us  as  if  it  were  evident  from 
the  narrative  that  the  early  Christians  expected  the 
Saviour  to  return  at  once.  These  authorities  argue 
that  since  this  has  been  proved  a  delusion,  it  dis- 
credits the  entire  doctrine  of  His  reappearing.  If 
this  theory  is  justified,  then  it  would  follow  that  in 
the  later  writings  of  the  Christians  you  would  find 
traces  of  disillusionment,  explanations  of  a  miscal- 
culating prophecy,  excuses,  and  doubts.  That  is 
not  my  impression  of  the  epistles  of  John  and  Peter 
and  the  Apocalypse.  Neither  there  nor  in  the 
prophecies  of  Christ,  as  reported  in  the  Gospels, 
do  I  detect  any  shallow  limitation  of  history  to  the 
brief  period  which  preceded  the  fall  of  Jerusalem. 
I  read,  rather,  of  wars  and  rumours  of  wars,  of  na- 
tion rising  against  nation  and  people  against  peo- 
ple, of  faith  growing  cold,  of  talk  about  the  Lord's 
return  being  delayed,  of  calamities  amid  which  the 
society  of  saints  barely  survives,  of  vials  of  wrath 
emptied  in  long  succession  on  land  and  sea,  of  per- 
secutions, revolutions,  upheavals.  This  surely  was 
not  the  language  of  short-sighted  men.  It  reveals 
vision,  as  of  an  eagle,  poised  aloft  and  scanning  the 
clouds  on  the  far  distant  horizon. 


244  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Every  movement,  w^hether  political  or  religious, 
must  be  judged  by  its  responsible  leadership.  I  do 
not  suggest  that  each  several  Christian,  either  then 
or  to-day,  saw  as  clearly  into  the  future  as  did  the 
author  of  the  Apocalypse.  The  disciples  of  Salo- 
nica,  for  instance,  v^'^ere  plainly  misled  by  a  phrase  in 
one  of  Paul's  letters  to  them;  they  v^ere  misled  into 
thinking  that  because  the  Lord  would  return  sud- 
denly, v/hen  people  least  expected  Him,  therefore. 
He  would  return  at  once.  If  this  had  been  the 
authoritative  conviction  of  the  apostles,  then  Paul 
would  have  endorsed  it.  But  what  happened?  In- 
stead of  so  doing,  he  wrote  a  second  letter  to  the 
Thessalonians  for  the  express  purpose  of  correcting 
an  erroneous  interpretation  of  his  former  epistle.  I 
suggest  that  this  second  epistle  is  a  warning  to  us 
all,  not  against  interpreting  Scripture,  but  against 
assuming  our  interpretation  to  be  infallible.  Com- 
ment is  good,  but  modesty  is  better.  The  modesty 
of  the  Thessalonians  enabled  Paul  to  put  them  right 
without  a  single  harsh  word.  Indeed,  this  is  one  of 
the  two  cases  where  Paul  steps  forward  humbly  as 
the  critic  of  his  own  inspiration.  Just  as  he  warned 
the  Galatians  against  accepting  another  gospel, 
though  Paul  himself  should  preach  it,  so  he  begged 
the  Thessalonians  not  to  be  troubled  or  shaken  in 
mind,  even  by  a  Pauline  epistle.  He  drew  a  firm 
distinction  between  Paul  the  man  and  Paul  the 
voice,  between  "  my  judgment,"  as  he  puts  it,  and 
the  spirit  of  God.  It  is  in  this  attitude  of  meekness 
that  we  should  examine  the  destinies  of  the  race  to 
which  we  belong. 

Wise  men  assure  us  that  interest  in  Our  Lord's 
return  is  only  taken  at  times  of  grave  social  dis- 


THE  HOPE  OF  HIS  COMING  245 

aster.  I  am  so  slight  a  scholar  that  I  hesitate  to 
challenge  this  dictum.  Yet  of  the  early  Church 
it  was  surely  untrue.  Critics  seem  to  imagine 
that  the  Macedonians  of  Thessalonica  were  all  liv- 
ing under  an  oppressive  sense  of  the  coming  de- 
struction of  Jerusalem,  a  city,  nearly  a  thousand 
miles  away,  which  few  of  them  had  seen.  I  cannot 
find  one  hint  of  it.  Never  was  the  Roman  Empire 
in  appearance  more  peaceful  and  secure  than  when 
the  advent  was  debated.  No  volcano  menaced  the 
town;  no  invasion  threatened  the  province.  What 
the  Salonicans  wanted  was  an  answer  to  certain 
questions  which  arise  at  every  fireside.  Here,  said 
they,  we  are  burying  our  dead.  To  what  extent 
ought  we  to  mourn  for  our  departed?  Are  their 
spirits  safe?  When  we  meet  Christ,  shall  we  meet 
them?  Are  they  happy  where  God  guards  them? 
Do  they  weep,  suffer  pain,  fall  asleep  and  awaken 
in  the  morning?  It  was  not  world  war  that  evoked 
these  questions.  It  was  the  register  in  the  family 
Bible,  the  locket  of  hair  on  a  mother's  bosom,  the 
fragrance  of  fiowers  on  a  mound  of  earth,  enshad- 
owed  by  circling  hills.  In  our  own  day,  some  of 
the  most  widely  circulated  books  and  articles  in  the 
most  widely  circulated  magazines  deal  with  the  sit- 
uation of  the  departed. 

Paul's  answer  was  simple  and  scientific.  From 
Corinth  he  wrote  to  the  Thessalonians  what  he 
afterwards  wrote  from  Philippi  to  Corinth.  They 
who  die  and  we  who  live  are  reserved  together  for 
one  divine  event.  If  they  are  raised  incorruptible  to 
meet  an  all-powerful  and  an  all-glorified  Redeemer, 
so,  in  Christ,  will  we  also  be  changed  into  that  same 
perfectly  spiritual  brotherhood.     The  triumph  of 


246  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

the  Saviour,  whenever  it  comes  and  whatever  form 
it  takes,  means  reunion  and  not  separation.  No 
one  who  loves  Him  and  others  in  Him  is  lost  in 
death,  either  to  Him  or  to  His  who  remain  behind. 
So  efifective  is  His  redemption  that  those  who  have 
trusted  Him  need  undergo  no  purgatory  of  their 
own,  but  will  be  changed,  as  He  was  changed  at  the 
resurrection,  in  a  twinkUng  of  the  eye,  by  an  edict 
ringing  like  a  trumpet,  so  that  where  He  is,  there 
will  all  of  His  be  also.  This  was  the  sure  and  cer- 
tain comfort  that  drew  the  ancient  sting  from  the 
arrow  of  death. 

For  in  the  meantime,  they  who  await  His  final 
call  to  endless  service  do  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more,  nor  does  the  sun  Hght  on  them  nor 
any  heat.  Sleeping  in  the  everlasting  arms  of  the 
eternal,  Who  in  the  days  of  our  tribulation  pitied 
us  as  a  Father  because  He  remembered  that  we 
were  then  dust,  they  learn  that  His  hand  wipes  the 
tears  from  their  eyes — yes,  those  tears  also  which 
have  stained  their  faces. 


There,  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  the 
disciples  saw  millions  of  men  and  women,  passing  to 
and  fro  in  ships,  on  horses  and  camels,  in  chariots. 
All  the  essentials  of  modern  locomotion  were  un- 
folded to  their  wondering  gaze.  The  tramp  of 
armies  along  the  Roman  highways,  the  pageants  of 
amphitheatre  and  forum,  the  glorious  display  of  glit- 
tering luxury,  brought  them  into  contact  with  men 
and  women  of  every  race  and  colour.  They  saw 
how  the  shadow  of  the  empire  spread  from  horizon 
to  horizon  until  it  included  all  that  was  known  of 


THE  HOPE  OF  HIS  COMING  24T 

the  human  family.  One  rule  was  laM  down  for 
mankind — one  authority  was  imposed — one  league 
united  the  peoples.  To  what  end,  they  asked,  was 
all  this  developed?  Under  what  monarch  was  hu- 
man life  to  be  thus  centralized?  When  all  persons 
would  obey  one  edict,  whose  voice  was  to  utter  it? 
It  is  mere  perversion  of  facts  to  say  that  in  put- 
ting these  questions  the  disciples  were  obscurantist. 
Theirs  was  the  spirit  of  science,  breathing  the  uni- 
versalism — the  eternities  of  time  and  space.  For 
all  future  investigation  they  laid  the  plans;  with  our 
telescopes  and  microscopes  we  have  been  merely 
filling  in  a  few  details.  At  Corinth,  there  were  biol- 
ogists who  thought  so  much  of  the  flesh  and  its 
phenomena  that  they  denied  the  resurrection.  The 
physical  body,  so  they  imagined,  would  be  the  only 
body — Eat  then  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  you  die, 
and  over  your  corrupted  limbs,  mindless  of  your 
love,  your  hope,  your  joy,  your  pain,  will  pass  un- 
heeding the  Juggernaut  of  evolution,  which  permits 
the  fittest  only  to  survive  until  the  fittest  is  cruelly 
superseded — the  Devil  taking  the  hindmost.  So 
they  talked  at  Corinth,  while  at  Patmos,  it  was  the 
politician  who  seemed  omnipotent, — the  statesman, 
armed  with  the  terrors  of  persecution,  their  hands 
red  with  all  the  blood  of  the  saints,  content  that  mil- 
lions be  slain  under  their  chariots  provided  that  new 
empires  rise  where  old  empires  have  fallen.  To 
the  biologists  of  Corinth  and  to  the  politicians  of 
Patmos,  Paul  on  the  one  hand  and  John  on  the 
other, — the  one  by  argument  and  the  other  by 
imagery — declared  the  inevitable  victory  of  the  In- 
carnate Good  in  Christ.  With  masterly  insight  they 
foresaw  that  this  good  and  this  evil  would  be  per- 


248  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

sonified  in  men,  not  dehumanized  in  systems,  that 
missions  would  mean  missionaries  and  empires  em- 
perors. Reasoning  from  the  rules  to  which  they 
could  discover  no  exception,  they  concluded  that 
the  ultimate  choice  would  lie,  not  between  the 
Church  and  some  different  organization,  but  be- 
tween Christ  and  "  anti-Christ,'*  or,  as  Paul  ex- 
pressed it,  a  man  of  sin  who  must  be  revealed.  If 
their  logic  needs  support,  I  do  not  turn  for  evidence 
to  students  of  prophecy.  Why  should  I?  Look  at 
the  cartoons  pubUshed  during  the  great  war.  A 
favourite  design,  adopted  by  artists  of  many  na- 
tions, was  Christ  confronting  the  Kaiser.  One 
such  picture  will  always  be  memorable.  It  appeared 
in  the  London  journal,  Punch,  and  showed  the 
Kaiser  cowering  before  the  Cross — with  a  title,  if  I 
recall  it  aright,  like  this—''  The  Two  Emperors." 
Dismiss  Paul,  seal  up  the  Apocalypse,  and  the  very 
plates  of  your  printing  presses  cry  out  in  the  agony 
and  the  awe  of  man's  inevitable  drama. 

There  is  a  proverb  that  nothing  is  ever  settled 
until  it  is  settled  right.  That  also  was  believed  by 
the  disciples.  They  did  not  anticipate  a  gradual 
and  peaceful  upward  evolution  from  bad  to  good 
and  from  good  to  better  and  from  better  to  the 
Best.  Their  idea  was  that  just  as  the  various 
regimes  of  Judaism — Patriarchal,  Judicial,  Royal, 
Ecclesiastical — broke  down  from  moral  and  spir- 
itual causes,  so  would  kingdoms  and  empires  break 
down,  until  that  city  of  God  arose  in  perfect  splen- 
dour of  obedience  to  the  will  of  Him  Who  sits  upon 
the  Throne  and  of  the  Lamb.  History  corrobo- 
rates their  view.  The  Roman  civilization  collapsed. 
JThe   Middle  Ages   crumbled.     Modern   monarchy 


THE  HOPE  OF  HIS  COMING  249 

has  tumbled  into  fragments.  Democracy  is  on 
trial.  Some  of  my  friends  believe  what  the  dis- 
ciples taught  because  it  happens  to  be  in  the  Bible. 
I  may  be  pardoned  for  adding  that  I  also  believe  it 
because  I  find  it  in  the  newspapers.  At  this  mo- 
ment I  happen  to  be  spending  considerable  sums 
cabling  news  messages  across  the  Atlantic.  If  I 
cabled  otherwise  than  in  apostolic  veracity,  if  I  pre- 
tended that  no  war  had  been  fought,  that  no  revo- 
lutions were  in  progress,  that  no  ships  had  been 
sunk,  that  no  plagues  were  ravaging  decimated  na- 
tions, another  correspondent  would  soon  sit  at  this 
desk  where  the  leaves  of  this  my  book  intermingle 
with  the  carbons  of  my  telegrams. 

I  am  not  suggesting  that  in  every  case  the  dis- 
ciples understood  at  the  time  the  full  and  ultimate 
force  of  the  language  which  they  were  led  to  em- 
ploy. When  they  spoke  of  all  nations,  they  can 
only  have  dimly  guessed  at  the  vast  populations  of 
Asia.  When  they  wrote  of  all  lands,  they  knew  not 
that  they  were  setting  out  the  fate  of  Australia  and 
America.  Their  sea  was  the  Mediterranean,  while 
ours  is  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific.  The  more 
amazing  is  the  miracle  of  thought  and  vision 
whereby,  standing  themselves  on  a  limited  plat- 
form, they  expressed  their  ideals  in  illimitable 
terms.  To  the  magnifying  power  of  microscope 
and  telescope  there  are  certain  discernible  and  final 
restrictions.  But  just  as  the  music  of  Handel, 
though  written  for  a  small  orchestra  and  company 
of  singers,  sounds  only  the  grander  as  new  instru- 
ments are  developed  and  choirs  are  multiplied  be- 
yond the  power  of  man  to  number,  so  does  this 
early  vision  of  Christ,  descending  from  heaven  with 


250     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

a  shout,  with  a  voice  as  the  trump  of  God, — this 
awe-inspiring  conception  of  the  love  and  power  of 
the  Son  of  Man,  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world,  grow  in  the  imagination  from  century  to  cen- 
tury, until  the  reign  of  Him  Who  first  came  to 
serve,  the  authority  of  Him  Who  first  came  to  suf- 
fer, the  glory  of  Him  Who  first  came  to  die,  dawns 
on  the  entire  human  race,  ruined  by  the  measure- 
less folly  of  human  wisdom,  as  the  one  radiant  hope 
of  social  and  international  salvation. 

The  second  coming  of  Christ  was  not  a  topic 
which  the  disciples  reserved  for  special  conventions 
or  courses  of  lectures.  It  was  their  background — 
the  atmosphere  that  they  breathed — the  light  by 
which  they  did  their  duty.  Men,  sitting  in  arm- 
chairs, find  it  hard  to  credit  stories  of  the  angel  at 
Mons,  but  to  the  soldiers,  faced  there  by  death  and 
mutilation,  the  very  heavens  declared  the  glory  of 
God.  These  disciples  also  were  in  the  front  line 
of  fire.  To  tell  them  of  the  past  was  not  enough. 
The  present  demanded  that  the  riddle  of  the  future 
should  include  a  certainty  of  victory.  They  must 
know  that  they  were  in  a  winning  fight.  As  a 
housemaid  sings  at  her  work,  so  in  doing  their 
duties  did  these  early  Christians  dream  their 
dreams.  Paul  prepared  his  defence  of  the  resurrec- 
tion with  the  text — Let  all  things  be  done  decently  and 
in  order.  He  closed  his  defence  by  urging  the  breth- 
ren always  to  abound  in  the  work  of  the  Lord. 
When  he  wrote  to  the  Thessalonians  on  questions 
of  prophecy,  he  was  himself  living  at  a  very  climax 
of  practical  and  personal  efificiency.  The  sense  that 
they  must  prepare  this  our  world  for  One  Whose 
eye  is   quick   to   mark   iniquity — Whose   heart   is 


THE  HOPE  OF  HIS  COMING  251 

stirred  by  injustice  and  cruelty — Whose  love  ex- 
tends freely  to  all  men,  however  humble  and  igno- 
rant, was  to  the  disciples  and  may  be  to  all  who 
come  after  them  the  very  simulus  that  people  need 
for  the  noblest  service  in  the  darkest  regions. 

If  there  has  been  controversy  over  the  Second 
Advent  and  over  the  Millennium  and  over  times 
and  seasons,  it  may  be  that  the  reason  is  a  failure 
constantly  to  associate  hope  with  service,  prophecy\ 
with  practical  politics,  and  vision  with  obedience. 
The  disciples  were  too  busy  to  quarrel  with  one 
another  over  the  second  death.  But  they  were  not 
too  busy  to  share  with  one  another  the  ennobling 
dream  of  eternal  life. 


XXIX 
PAUL'S  PATH  TO  THE  CROSS 

THE  tumult  at  Ephesus  died  down,  leaving  Paul 
in  command  of  the  position.  He  and  his 
friends  could  move  where  they  wished,  without  let 
or  hindrance,  to  Philippi  across  the  water,  to  Troas, 
to  Mitylene.  It  was  the  zenith  of  Paul's  career. 
Everywhere  he  went  he  was  welcomed;  his  lightest 
wish  was  law;  men  and  women  wept  when  he  de- 
parted. Yet  by  a  supreme  sacrifice  he  cut  the  ties 
which  bound  him  to  all  these  churches,  whether  in 
Asia  Minor  or  the  Balkans,  and  sailed  for  Jerusalem 
to  keep  the  Feast  of  Pentecost. 

The  voyage  was  regretted  by  all  his  friends. 
They  told  him  that  he  could  expect  at  Jerusalem 
no  fate  except  bonds  and  imprisonment.  He  was 
throwing  away,  as  it  seemed,  an  invaluable  life,  and 
for  no  obvious  reason.  He  admitted  himself  that 
in  his  absence  grievous  wolves  would  enter  the  fold, 
not  sparing  the  flock.  Of  his  very  converts,  there 
would  arise  those  who  would  speak  perverse  things, 
drawing  disciples  after  them  and  thus  away  from 
the  one  Lord.  How  true  was  this  forecast,  we  can 
perceive  by  glancing  at  the  seven  angels'  letters  to 
these  very  churches.  A  man,  possibly  the  deacon, 
Nicolas,  wandered  wholly  astray  and  started  a  sect 
called  the  Nicolaitines.     There  were  others  who  ate 

252 


PAUL'S  PATH  TO  THE  CHOSS  253 

idolatrous  dainties  and  practised  fornication.  At 
Thyatira,  they  were  led  by  the  woman  Jezebel. 
Paul  knew  in  himself  that  it  would  be  so,  yet  he  did 
not  lift  one  linger  to  prevent  by  his  own  personal 
effort  this  ecclesiastical  decay.  He  was  content  to 
utter  a  warning  which  was  itself  a  pronouncement 
of  doom. 

Many  may  think  that  Paul  was  wrong,  that  he 
should  have  framed  a  creed,  appointed  trustees 
over  church  property,  and  defined  a  series  of  spir- 
itual tests.  Some  system  of  clerical  administration 
would  surely  have  safeguarded  these  churches 
against  the  enemies  within.  A  presbytery,  a  synod, 
a  conclave,  a  Methodist  conference,  a  diocesan 
council, — why  was  so  little  of  this  kind  elaborated? 
It  was  because  Paul  knew  that  the  disease  lay^ 
deeper  than  organization  and  tenets.  The  Lord 
Himself  had  departed  from  this  earth  in  order  that 
His  disciples, — however  long  it  took  them — might 
learn  slowly  but  surely  how  to  live  their  lives  by  the 
Spirit.  Paul  was  one  of  the  few  men  in  any  agd 
who  understood  Christ  and  acted  as  Christ  would.' 
have  acted  in  his  place.  If  the  Church  must  not^ 
depend  on  the  physical  Jesus,  much  less  must  the 
Church  depend  on  the  physical  Paul.  Better  no 
Church  at  all — as  he  told  Corinth — than  a  Pauline: 
Church.  Better  no  preaching  at  all  than  a  preacher 
who  fills  Christ's  pulpit.  So  supreme  a  man  was 
Paul  that  the  time  came  when  he  had  no  choice  save 
to  leave  the  stage  vacant.  He  had  to  show  that 
what  Christ  did  through  him  was  not  enough.  It 
was  his  great  renunciation — this  standing  aside  for 
smaller  men. 

He  knew  that  whatever  words  could  accomplish 


254:  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET^ 

had  been  achieved.  He  had  said  all  that  had  been' 
given  him  to  say.  So  v^ell  had  he  said  it  that  he 
had  trained  a  successor,  Timothy,  v^ho  could  go  on 
saying  these  things,  not  less  well.  By  avoiding 
rhetoric  and  offering  a  plain  diet,  Paul  taught  the 
people  to  meet  not  for  amusement  but  for  v^orship, 
to  listen  for  the  voice  of  Christ,  instead  of  seeking 
satisfaction  in  rhetoric,  and  there  is  no  suggestion 
that  with  him  away  the  attendance  at  divine  service 
fell  off.  But  experience  at  Corinth  and  in  Galatia 
told  him  that  sayings  by  themselves  would  fail — 
that  sayings  must  be  supplemented  therefore  by- 
something  more,  by  suffering,  by  sharing  Christ's 
death,  by  showing  forth  His  Cross.  Others  must 
meet  persecution  and  Paul  would  set  an  example. 

Happily  for  us  the  story  of  his  voyage  is  told  by 
one  to  whom,  as  to  some  famous  diarist,  every  un- 
important detail  is  dear.  How  Paul  enjoyed  the 
walk  from  Troas  to  Assos  while  the  ship  navigated 
the  headland — how  they  touched  at  Mitylene — and 
came  next  day  off  Chios — and  next  day  called  at 
Samos,  waiting  at  Trogyllium,  en  route  for  Miletus 
■ — it  is  all  set  down.  Over  these  historic  islands, 
this  richly  indented  coast,  the  utter  oblivion  of 
moral  sterility  was  even  now  settling  and,  for  the 
audience  which  reads  popular  history,  this  itinerary 
of  the  apostle  sheds  the  final  ray  of  light  on  all  that 
had  been  the  boasted  civilization  of  Greece.  As 
Paul  passed  over  the  horizon,  the  landscape  receded 
into  a  sudden  darkness.  When  he  landed  in  Tyre, 
it  seemed  as  if  a  brief  day  again  dawned.  At  Jeru- 
salem, he  was  the  central  figure  in  that  era  of  the 
Roman  Empire  and  in  the  radiance  of  his  heroism 
the  notabilities,  gathered  for  the  last  time  around 


PAUL'S  PATH  TO  THE  CROSS  255 

Mount  Zion,  are  for  a  moment  reflected,  to  be  for- 
gotten when  he  departed. 

Of  that  journey  certain  scenes  stand  out  im- 
mortal. At  Troas,  the  last  evening  had  come.  In 
an  upper  room,  Paul  spoke  to  a  crowd  until  mid- 
night. Lamps  had  been  lit.  The  air  became  op- 
pressive. But  still,  hour  after  hour,  they  hung  on 
his  words.  For  Troas,  on  the  confines  of  barbaric 
regions,  itself  pagan  and  rationalist,  Paul's  was  the 
only  good  news.  No  syllable  of  his  could  be  spared. 
Suddenly,  a  young  man  called  Eutychus  either 
fainted  or  slumbered,  and  fell  headlong  from  an 
open  window.  He  dropped  three  stories  and  was 
brought  up  dead.  At  any  rate,  they  believed  this, 
and  Paul's  final  message  was  obscured  in  a  personal 
sorrow.  One  hint  of  a  failure  to  sympathize  would 
have  ended  forever  their  affection  for  the  leader. 
But  he  stopped — stopped  instantly — his  argument, 
and  revealed  the  heart  that  beat  within.  With  the 
authority  of  love,  he  displayed  a  silent  anguish 
which  they  only  could  watch  with  awe.  Here  was 
the  apostle,  flung  to  the  earth,  his  arms  holding  the 
lad,  his  face  at  his  very  heart.  He  whose  body  was 
sore  stricken  with  many  stripes  was  as  a  mother 
when  he  saw  any  one  else  in  pain.  And  love  like 
Paul's  was  the  best  guide  for  a  doctor.  While 
others  wept  and  wailed,  he  felt  the  faint  pulse  and 
knew  that  life  still  throbbed.  Admirable  as  was 
Paul's  theology,  it  counted  as  nothing  beside  his 
goodness  to  that  one  young  man.  What  impressed 
them  was  not  a  miracle  of  healing  but  the  miracle 
of  comfort. 

Instead  of  calling  at  Ephesus,  he  waited  a  few 
hours  at  Miletus,  near  by,  whither  he  summoned 


256  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

the  elders  of  the  Church.  It  was  his  last  chance, 
as  they  thought,  of  setting  out  his  views  of  Christ, 
His  Truth,  His  divine  nature.  His  further  advent. 
But  about  these  grave  matters  Paul  did  not  then 
worry.  The  cause  of  Christ,  he  knew  well,  was 
safe.  Nothing  of  that  could  ever  fail.  But  of  his 
own  witness,  he  was  sensitive.  Honourably  to  fin- 
ish his  course  was  his  eager  concern. 

At  that  moment  of  departure,  he  knew  with  the 
preternatural  discernment  of  the  dying  that  the 
security  of  the  Church,  as  of  every  society,  depends 
not  on  the  beautiful  symmetry  of  its  written  consti- 
tution, not  on  the  elaborate  correctitude  of  its  dog- 
mas, but  upon  the  faithfulness  of  its  officers  to 
Christ,  upon  their  independence  of  financial  consid- 
erations, their  ability  to  ignore  the  rivalries  of 
wealth  and  fashion,  their  strict  avoidance  of  graft 
or  bribery  or  indefensible  endowments.  In  all  that 
makes  for  honest  commerce  and  politics,  in  all  that 
sets  a  standard  whether  for  millionaire  or  socialist, 
Paul,  by  remaining  poor  amid  success,  played  the 
pioneer.  The  fatal  and  often  illusory  opulence  of 
bishops  was  not  for  him.  Feed  the  Church  of  God, 
was  his  injunction,  rather  than  mortgage  it.  Above 
all  else,  let  the  people  have  the  Gospel  without  bur- 
den.    Allow  them  no  excuse  for  refusing  it. 

His  closing  sentence  is  of  a  peculiar  interest. 
Remember,  said  he,  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  hozv 
he  said,  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.  Com- 
mentators have  rightly  observed  that  nowhere  do 
these  words  appear  in  any  of  the  four  Gospels. 
The  quotation  is  thus  unique.  It  Is  the  one  authen- 
tic instance  of  what  has  been  called  Pauline  theol- 
ogy— his  one  addition  or  postscript  to  the  records 


PAUL'S  PATH  TO  THE  CROSS  257 

of  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke  and  John.  Yet  instinc- 
tively we  feel  that  the  saying  rings  true  to  the  divine 
Authorship.  Paul  had  arrived  at  a  Christliness  so 
evident  that  his  words  sounded  often  as  if  Christ 
Himself  were  speaking.  If,  as  is  probable,  his  com- 
panion at  that  time  was  Luke,  and  if  Luke  wrote 
both  the  Gospel  and  the  Acts,  then  it  was  Luke, 
with  his  notes  of  Our  Lord's  utterances,  who  sum- 
marized this  address  to  the  elders,  including  its  clos- 
ing quotation.  Than  Luke,  there  could  have  been 
no  higher  authority  on  the  proper  use  of  the  phrase. 
In  this  apparent  discrepancy,  we  enjoy  a  rare  and 
delightful  glimpse  into  the  silent  process  of  reduc- 
ing to  paper  the  priceless  oral  traditions  of  the 
Messiah. 

When  Our  Saviour  bade  His  friends  farewell.  He 
led  them  away  from  the  crowds,  to  the  summit  of 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  there  He  was  received 
into  the  Eternal  Cloud.  The  sorrow  of  parting 
was  over  when  He  died  upon  the  Cross.  It  was  a 
sorrow  that,  in  suffering  with  Christ,  Paul  shared. 
The  elders  of  Ephesus  embraced  him,  wept  sore, 
and  with  sad  eyes  accompanied  him  to  the  ship. 
It  did  not  occur  to  them  in  their  grief  that  if  Paul 
had  stayed  with  them,  there  would  have  been  for 
generations  yet  unborn  no  letter  to  the  Ephesians. 
All — all  of  that  incomparable  teaching  would  have 
been  lost  forever.  His  face  they  were  to  see  no 
more,  but  his  message  was  for  them  and  for  all  men 
intimate  and  everlasting.  The  little  group  stood  on 
the  quay,  forlorn,  as  the  ocean  liner  of  those  daring 
days  breasted  the  uncertain  ^gean. 

Weather  assisted  the  voyagers  and  Paul  spared  a 
week  for  Tyre.     In  that  brief  spell  he  so  endeared 


258     THE  CHUECH  WE  FOEGET 

himself  to  the  disciples  that  the  very  children  came 
with  their  fathers  and  mothers  to  see  the  last  of 
him.  With  the  elders  he  had  prayed,  but  in  seclu- 
sion. Here,  amid  the  rattle  of  ships'  tackle  and  the 
movement  of  cargo,  w^ith  seamen  of  all  races 
roughly  pursuing  their  hard  tasks,  there  was  seen 
the  strange  sight  of  Christ's  family  at  worship, 
kneeling  and  praying,  to  a  God  unseen,  unknown 
by  Phoenicians.  Of  Paul's  prayers,  we  know  some- 
thing from  his  epistles.  No  man  ever  sought  nobler 
blessings  for  his  comrades.  We  can  almost  hear 
him,  as  the  sea  washed  that  Syrian  shore,  raising 
his  voice  for  the  disciples  of  Tyre,  as  he  prayed 
later  for  the  Ephesians,  that  the  God  of  Our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Father  of  glory,  might  give  unto 
them  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  revelation  in  the 
knowledge  of  Him,  the  eyes  of  their  understanding 
being  enlightened  that  they  might  know  what  is 
the  hope  of  His  calling  and  what  the  riches  of  the 
glory  of  His  inheritance  in  the  saints.  For  them, 
as  for  the  Philippians,  he  would  also  pray  that  their 
love  might  abound  yet  more  and  more  in  knowl- 
edge and  in  all  judgment;  or,  again,  as  for  the 
Colossians,  that  they  might  walk  worthy  of  the 
Lord  unto  all  pleasing,  being  fruitful  in  every  good 
work  and  increasing  in  the  knowledge  of  God, 
strengthened  with  all  might  according  to  His  glo- 
rious power.  Paul's  prayers  were  ex  tempore,  well- 
ing up  from  the  heart,  eloquent  therefore  at  the 
lips,  a  sudden  liturgy  of  which  some  few  phrases 
resound  through  the  centuries. 

When  I  read  the  long  list  of  places  at  which  Paul 
touched  on  this  journey  to  Jerusalem,  I  have  the 
sense  that  I  am  following  a  martyr  around  the  one 


PAUL'S  PATH  TO  THE  CROSS  259 

and  universal  Church  of  Christ  and  am  pausing  at 
what  our  Cathohc  brethren  would  call  the  stations 
of  the  cross.  How  easy  to  evade  the  final  struggle 
at  Jerusalem !  What  useful  work  lay  waiting  at 
Coos  and  Rhodes  and  Patara !  A  word  would  have 
secured  a  call  at  Cyprus  and  reunion  with  Barnabas, 
but  the  word  was  not  spoken.  Cyprus  was  "  dis- 
covered "  or  sighted,  and  Cyprus  was  left  on  the 
left  hand.  Even  Ptolemais,  where  the  saints  were 
saluted,  only  detained  Paul  one  day,  and  the  mor- 
row found  him  in  Csesarea,  at  the  house  of  Philip 
the  Evangelist. 

Thus  were  the  threads  of  the  drama  gathered 
into  one  inseparable  tragedy.  Philip  was  now  a 
married  man  with  four  daughters,  all  of  whom  were 
engaged  upon  Christian  work — Sunday  Schools, 
missions  and  so  on.  The  progress  of  the  faith 
seemed  placid  and  secure.  With  his  punctual  eye 
on  Pentecost,  Paul  lingered  on  from  day  to  day. 
What  decided  him  to  leave  was  the  arrival  from 
Jerusalem  of  Agabus — the  prophet  of  trouble, — 
who  sees  clearly  enough  that  things  are  wrong  and 
gets  excited  about  it.  He  warned  Paul  that  Jeru- 
salem was  no  place  for  him  to  visit  safely.  Having 
met  Peter,  it  is  perhaps  no  wonder  that  Agabus 
enforced  his  words  with  the  simile  of  binding  with 
a  girdle  which  Jesus  had  used  to  describe  Peter's 
martyrdom.  With  Paul's  girdle,  he  bound  his  own 
hands  and  feet.  Thus  saith  the  Holy  Ghost,  he  cried, 
So  shall  the  Jezvs  of  Jerusalem  bind  the  man  that  ozvneth 
this  girdle  and  shall  deliver  him  into  the  hands  of  the 
Gentiles. 

Then  was  brought  to  bear  upon  Paul  the  last  and 
hardest  trial,  by  which  Peter  had  himself  tested  the 


260  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOKGET 

Christ,  namely,  the  weak  advice  of  valued  friends. 
His  companions  in  travel  joined  with  the  saints  of 
Caesarea  in  an  effort  at  united  dissuasion.  They 
were  the  very  cream  of  the  missionary  church. 
They  were  the  men  who  of  all  others  knew  Paul's 
value.  On  their  side,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  was  all  the 
logic.  The  Lord  and  Stephen  and  James  had  been 
victims  of  Jerusalem ;  surely  they  were  enough ; 
why  add  Paul?  If  Rome  was  his  aim,  let  him  go  to 
Rome,  direct.  I  do  not  know  how  to  answer  this 
argument,  save  in  one  way.  Within  good  men, 
there  is  an  inscrutable  purpose,  known  only  to 
themselves  and  God.  The  seed  had  to  fall  into  the 
ground  and  die.  If  Paul  turned  back,  his  name  and 
his  life-work  would  have  been  lost  in  the  mists  that 
were  already  enfolding  the  church.  His  greatest 
triumph  of  all  was  as  prisoner. 

For  every  soldier  and  sailor  who  leaves  home  to 
die,  for  every  sick  and  suffering  person  who  faces 
the  surgeon  or  the  fate  of  an  invalid,  Paul  now  be- 
comes a  comrade.  He  faced  the  weeping.  He  felt 
the  heart-break.  He  endured  the  worst  moment  of 
all  when  they  gave  up  the  fight  on  his  behalf  and 
said.  The  will  of  tJie  Lord  be  done.  The  crowded 
room  was  far  different  in  appearance  from  the 
lonely  Garden,  but  here,  none  the  less,  was  Geth- 
semane.  They  gathered  up  their  few  possessions. 
They  packed  their  baggage.  And  then  they  set 
out  on  foot  for  the  city,  now  devoted  to  destruction. 

The  feast  of  Pentecost!  Did  it  cross  Paul's  mind 
that,  perhaps  by  God's  Spirit,  he  might  utter  what 
would  save  the  city  from  her  doom?  How  well  he 
knew  her  story  !  What  memories  of  David,  of  Solo- 
mon, of  Hezekiah,  of  Ezra,  flooded  the  mind !     Cor- 


PAULAS  PATH  TO  THE  CROSS  261 

inth  and  Ephesus  and  Philippi — what  were  they  to 
compare  with  Zion  and  Moriah?  For  Christ's  sake 
he  had  loved  the  Gentile,  but  Jerusalem  was  en- 
shrined in  his  heart.  Among  the  patriots,  who 
have  offered  all  for  their  native  land,  Paul  was  con- 
spicuous, but  the  trouble  with  Jerusalem  was  that 
in  her  politics  there  was  no  room  either  for  Christ 
or  Paul.  The  second,  like  the  First,  was  cast  out 
by  a  popular  vote.  As  a  prophet  of  electoral 
chances,  Agabus,  like  Peter,  was  shrewdly  right. 
Both  candidatures  were  hopeless.  Democratic  in 
her  institutions,  with  free  speech  and  a  free  press 
to  express  her  impulses,  Jerusalem  would  not  have 
the  Best. 

That  walk  from  Troas  across  the  promontory  of 
Assos — how  much  it  meant  to  Paul!  Troas,  the 
home  of  his  ambition  to  win  Macedonia,  was  the 
scene  of  his  great  renunciation.  As  Christ  climbed 
the  mountain  while  His  disciples  crossed  the  sea,  so 
by  an  instinct  did  Paul,  thus  seeking  the  longer 
vision.  After  talking  all  night  and  wrestling  with 
the  Angel  of  Death,  he  needed  the  solitude  and  was 
fair,  as  always,  to  his  nervous  system,  for  that  also 
belonged  to  Christ. 


XXX 

VINDICATING  A  PASSPORT 

IN  Paul's  visit  to  Jerusalem  there  is  involved  the 
elemental  right  of  men  and  v^omen  to  travel 
freely  over  this  planet.  Christ  Himself  issued  the 
passport  when  He  said,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world 
and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature,"  and  every 
law,  whether  of  extradition,  immigration  or  depor- 
tation, must  be  made  ultimately  subject  to  this  un- 
challengeable decree.  Not  for  one  moment  would 
the  apostle  admit  the  right  of  the  Jews  to  exclude 
either  him  or  his  friends  from  their  city.  He  went 
to  Jerusalem  for  the  very  purpose  of  asserting  his 
title  to  such  asylum.  His  presence  there  vindicated 
free  speech  as  well  as  free  travel.  In  him,  at  that 
moment,  the  unrealized  liberties  of  all  peoples  to 
the  utmost  abundance  of  a  noble  life  were  summed 
up. 

But  it  was  only  in  Christ  that  Paul  dared  to  claim 
such  perfect  freedom.  Not  as  an  anarchist,  not  as  a 
zealot,  not  as  a  devotee  of  pleasure,  did  he  knock 
boldly  at  the  sacred  gates  of  the  City  of  God.  The 
only  reason  why  his  social  rights  were  absolute  was 
that  his  personal  rights  had  been  surrendered;  he 
was  no  longer  his  own :  he  was  bought  with  a  price ; 
and  to  shut  out  Paul  was  not  to  exclude  a  Roman 
citizen  merely,  but  to  bar  the  right  of  will  and  way 

262 


VINDICATING  A  PASSPORT  263 

to  the  King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords.  More 
and  more,  the  world  is  recognizing  that  they  who 
simply  serve  Christ  are  hindered  at  peril.  When 
Edith  Cavell  is  murdered,  an  empire  falls.  There 
was  that  in  Cardinal  Mercier  which  the  most  brutal 
of  conquerors  dared  not  maltreat.  The  immunity 
of  the  Italian  artist  is  granted  nowadays  to  most 
missionaries.  They  enter  the  zenana.  They  enter 
it  because  first  they  have  braved  the  leper  camp. 
To  fire  on  the  red  cross,  to  torpedo  the  hospital 
ship,  to  bombard  the  nunnery,  is  like  slaying  the 
albatross.  When  the  Jews  seized  Paul,  the  luck  of 
Jerusalem,  if  I  may  apply  the  phrase  in  border  min- 
strelsy, changed  to  certain  destruction.  The  pas- 
sions that  broke  loose  against  him  were  the  same 
passions  that  defied  the  laws  of  Rome  and  provoked 
against  Mount  Zion  the  stern  reprisals  which  laid 
her  Temple  desolate. 

It  is  strange,  indeed,  that,  in  leaving  Csesarea, 
Paul  should  not  have  known  where  in  Jerusalem  he 
could  lay  his  head.  The  message  of  Agabus 
showed  clearly  that  in  welcoming  the  Gentiles  to  his 
heart  the  apostle  had  become  himself  unwelcome. 
His  host  was,  therefore,  to  be  a  man  of  Cyprus,  an 
old  man  who  doubtless  owed  his  soul  to  the  Paul  of 
former  days,  of  the  first  missionary  tour,  and  was 
now  anxious  to  repay  the  debt.  Mnason  is  his 
name,  and  he  came  with  those  disciples  of  Csesarea 
who  were  drawn  by  a  grim  foreboding  to  accom- 
pany Paul  to  whatever  was  his  fate.  Unwelcome — 
is  that  too  strong  a  word?  Perhaps.  To  the  ever- 
lasting glory  of  those  Judean  Christians,  so  full  of 
well-justified  apprehensions,  they  were  glad  to 
greet  Paul  when  they  actually  saw  him;  in  conflict 


264:  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

with  human  fear,  divine  courage  did,  for  the  mo- 
ment, gain  the  day.  They  dared  to  love  and  to 
receive  the  unpopular  man.  Yet  his  sister,  if  alive, 
and  his  sister's  son  took  no  recorded  part  in  the 
occasion. 

For  the  last  time  in  Scriptural  narrative,  the  dis- 
ciples met  in  solemn  conclave.  As  they  vanish  into 
the  terrors  of  the  time  that  v^as  descending  on 
them,  let  us  bid  these  first  comrades  of  ours  an 
affectionate  adieu.  In  the  chief  chair,  once  more, 
sits  James,  the  Lord's  brother,  and  the  elders  are 
gathered  around  him.  Already,  the  assembly  of 
the  Church  has  become  a  selected  body,  v^ithout 
women;  a  Parliament — a  Cabinet;  discussing  in  se- 
cret the  expedients  whereby  in  church  as  well  as 
state,  government  is  most  safely  conducted.  Al- 
ready we  note  how  the  Pentecostal  boldness  of 
/Peter  and  John  had  become  a  fear  of  the  multitude, 
I  of  public  opinion, — how  there  was  dependence  on 
insincere  artifices  of  statecraft,  on  compromise  with 
tolerated  prejudice.  Multitudes  even  of  Christians 
were  zealous  for  the  law — had  heard  that  Paul  neg- 
lected the  ancient  customs — would  come  together 
and  make  trouble.  What  was  to  be  the  remedy? 
Thirty  years  earlier  those  disciples  would  have 
known  well  enough.  They  would  have  waited  for 
the  Spirit  of  Power  and  Truth  and  then,  cost  what 
it  might,  they  would  have  gone  forth  to  shatter  the 
bondage  of  law  with  the  declaration  of  love.  In 
Christ,  they  would  have  proclaimed  the  Master  of 
Moses.  As  it  was,  they  confidentially  glorified  God 
for  the  Gentiles — and  then  proposed  public  condi- 
tions, apologies  and  mitigations,  for  what  God  had 
wrought. 


VINDICATING  A  PASSPORT  266 

At  that  moment  of  utter  provocation,  not  one 
word  of  impatience  fell  from  the  eager  lips  of  Paul. 
Here  was  a  man  who  had  driven  forth  devils,  sur- 
vived earthquakes,  bled  under  the  scourge,  and 
stood  alone  on  Mars  Hill,  and  they  actually  sug- 
gested that  as  a  next  step  to  the  conquest  of  the 
world  for  Christ,  he  should  shave  his  head.  Nay 
more,  four  men,  presumably  younger  than  himself, 
were  to  join  him  in  the  vow.  The  dead  hand  of 
ritualism  was  to  be  fastened  on  the  rising  genera- 
tion. The  splendid  comradeship  with  Timothy  was 
to  be  exchanged  for  a  ceremonial  razor.  The  ton- 
sure was  to  inflict  age  upon  unspent  youth.  The 
boys  were  to  behave  like  their  grandfathers — the 
girls  to  be  as  restricted  in  outlook  as  their  grand- 
mothers. Instead  of  eternity — future  and  present 
as  well  as  past — the  past  was  to  be  a  monopoly — 
enshadowing  all  effort,  all  ideals,  all  policy.  That 
shaving  of  Paul's  head  was  an  insult  to  every  con- 
viction for  which  he  had  contended  as  apostle  to  the 
Gentiles.  It  branded  him,  the  evangelist  and  gos- 
peller, as  an  ecclesiastical  convict.  It  was  the  close 
crop  which  degrades  the  wrong-doer.  Yet  he  sub- 
mitted. He  suffered  the  humiliation.  He  allowed 
narrow-minded  men  to  win  the  victory  over  his  per- 
sonal prestige.  He  became  of  no  reputation,  obedi- 
ent to  the  Cross. 

The  enemies  of  Christ  were  but  little  deceived. 
Their  quarrel  was  not  with  Paul's  gray  hair  but 
with  Paul's  good  heart.  They  knew  that  what  he 
stood  for  was  not  merely  a  skin-deep  emotion  of 
the  face,  but  was  a  principle  rooted  in  the  soul. 
Where  the  disciples  were  thinking  externals,  the 
enemy  of  mankind  was  striking  straight  at  the  ker- 


266  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

nel  of  the  situation.  Compromise  and  camouflage 
could  never  disguise  a  man  like  Paul  from  recogni- 
tion by  his  adversaries.  In  Asia,  as  v^e  have  seen, 
the  Jews  were  powerless  to  resist  the  Gentile  move- 
ment. In  Jerusalem  they  had  their  revenge.  The 
city  which  slew  Christ  was  already  the  stronghold, 
the  city  of  refuge,  for  every  discredited  prejudice 
the  wide  world  over.  The  spectacle  of  Trophimus 
the  Ephesian,  obviously  happy  in  the  worship  of 
God,  yet  uncircumcised  and  no  proselyte,  infuriated 
the  Ephesian  Jews,  who  kept  the  feast.  The  mob 
arose  and  seized,  not  Trophimus,  but  Paul, — not 
the  emancipated  slave  but  the  emancipator — not 
the  convert  but  the  preacher — and  a  new  meaning 
was  shed  on  the  idea  of  *'  crucifixion  with  Christ." 
It  meant  not  only  sufifering  with  Him.  It  also 
meant  suffering  for  others.  Of  all  those  multitudes 
of  disciples,  Paul  alone  was  seized.  Strike  him 
down  and  the  rest  would  not  matter. 

They  thrust  him  out  of  the  Temple ;  they  shut  the 
doors  against  him.  Yet  he  was  a  Jew,  as  well  as 
they ;  as  strict  a  Jew  as  they.  What  they  then  shut 
out  was  not  Paul,  but  the  Christ  in  Paul.  As  they 
had  rejected  Christ  in  the  flesh,  so  they  now  re- 
jected Christ  in  the  spirit.  They  succeeded  in  shut- 
ting those  doors.  Paul  could  not — did  not  try  to 
force  them  open.  From  human  institutions,  eccle- 
siastical, commercial  and  political, — it  is  possible  to 
exclude  the  Master  and  His  disciples.  Men  have 
often  done  it  and,  by  test  acts  and  similar  devices, 
they  will  do  it  again.  But  the  Temple  without 
Christ  did  not  survive  one  generation.  It  was 
burned  in  the  fire  of  retribution.  It  crumbled  in 
the  dust  of  decay.     In  turning  out  the  Eternal  it 


VINDICATING  A  PASSPOKT  267 

became  logically  as  transient  as  the  men  wlio  gov- 
erned it.  It  is  reason  and  science  that  states  and 
nations  cannot  survive  the  Spirit  within  them.  If 
the  spirit  be  of  time  only,  that  time  will  be  the  in- 
evitalDle  limit  of  the  commonwealth  which  thus  ex- 
presses itself. 

The  Christians,  whether  Jewish  or  Greek,  were 
no  match  for  the  mob.  They  had  been  taught  to 
forgive,  to  cultivate  quietness  of  mind,  not  to  resist 
evil  against  themselves,  and  to  bear  tribulation. 
The  vocal  part  of  democracy  therefore  carried  the 
day.  There  was  no  endeavour  to  rescue  Paul,  nor 
would  he  have  desired  it.  He  was  thinking,  not  of 
himself  at  all,  but  of  the  cause,  and  he  realized  that 
his  own  danger  was  Christ's  opportunity.  So  was 
it  when  he  arrived  in  Rome.  There  he  detested  his 
"  chain."  He  was  conscious  the  whole  time  that 
after  so  active  a  life  he  was  "  a  prisoner  of  the 
Lord  " — bedridden,  manacled,  invalided,  paralyzed. 
But  he  also  knew  that  his  bonds  helped  the  good 
news.  Caesar's  court  were  genuinely  interested  in 
this  remarkable  prisoner  and  his  message.  There 
was  gossip  about  him.  People  talked  about  the 
merits  of  the  trial  more  freely  than  they  would  have 
talked  about  the  Cause,  as  ordinarily  advanced. 
What  had  been  mere  propaganda  acquired  a  news 
value.  The  publicity,  afterwards  to  be  developed 
in  Rome,  was  beginning  in  the  Temple  area  of  Jeru- 
salem. Millions  who  had  never  heard  about  Christ 
or  Paul  or  Trophimus  or  the  Gospel  discovered  that 
strange  events  were  happening.  The  Church  which 
had  become  voiceless,  which  had  ceased  to  matter 
very  much,  was  suddenly  revealed  as  the  very  key- 
stone of  the  arch  on  which  society  rests. 


268     THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

Sometimes  we  are,  I  think,  unfair  to  this  democ- 
racy of  Jerusalem.  They  acted  badly,  but  they 
acted  in  no  worse  a  manner  than  rioters  of  any 
other  age,  including  our  own.  Every  endeavour 
to  secure  equitable  treatment  for  Trophimus  has 
been  resisted,  from  time  to  time,  by  democracy. 
Slaveholders  thus  attacked  Whittier.  Turkish 
Pashas  and  their  Kurdish  mercenaries  thus  out- 
raged Christians.  Paris  thus  slew  the  Huguenot. 
Lord  George  Gordon  and  his  roysterers  thus 
treated  the  Catholics.  Not  until  we  establish  uni- 
versal citizenship  will  every  Temple  find  room  for 
every  Ephesian.  When  white  man  and  black  man 
and  yellow  man  and  red  man  kneel  at  one  altar, 
then  and  only  then  let  us  cast  stones  at  these  angry 
Hebrews.  As  we  fear  intermarriage,  so  did  they. 
As  we  anticipate  an  unfortunate  mingling  of  higher 
with  lower  races,  so  did  they.  As  we  think  proudly 
of  the  purity  of  our  Western  ideals,  so  did  they. 
To  us,  as  to  them,  Christ  and  His  faithful  apostles 
teach  an  ever-deepening  lesson  of  what  is  meant  by 
the  brotherhood  of  nations.  To  us  as  to  them,  that 
lesson  is  a  challenge,  often  provoking  passion  and 
arousing  resistance. 

The  cry  ''  Away  with  Him  "  which  assailed  the 
ears  of  Christ,  was  not  uttered  once  only,  but  rings 
and  reechoes  down  the  annals  of  history.  Paul 
heard  its  ominous  note.  So  did  Savonarola.  So 
has  many  an  idealist  when  surrounded  on  every  side 
by  the  insurgent  selfishness  of  an  irritated  society. 
They  did  get  rid  of  Paul;  but  God  remained,  the 
great  I  AM,  the  Presence,  the  Everlasting  Vindi- 
cator of  Right.  He  Who  was  refused  as  a  mission- 
ary returned  as  a  conqueror  and  a  general.     The 


VINDICATING  A  PASSPORT  269 

despised  love  of  God — despised  because  it  embraced 
Trophimus — was  not  so  very  distant  after  all  from 
the  inescapable  wrath  of  God.  Had  the  Gentiles 
been  admitted  to  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  and 
learnt  to  love  its  glorious  mysteries,  no  fiery  brand 
would  have  kindled  the  fragrant  cedar  and  burnt  to 
ashes  the  Holy  of  Holies. 

As  often  happens  with  idealists,  Paul's  real  rec- 
ord was  misjudged.  Because  anarchy  reigned  they 
assumed  that  he  was  an  anarchist.  Judea  was  then 
in  terror  of  foreign  agitators,  Bolshevists,  immi- 
grants from  Egypt,  who  brought  their  grievances 
with  them  into  the  promised  land,  and  made  trouble 
by  attacking  the  established  constitution  under 
which  men  and  women  prospered.  Such  people 
were  always  leading  others  into  the  wilderness  of 
futile  disorder,  and  bringing  the  Cause  of  Christ  it- 
self under  suspicion.  Hence  the  chief  captain's  ques- 
tion to  Paul — his  attempt  to  condemn  the  apostle 
by  a  label — to  judge  of  his  words  by  the  language 
— Greek  or  otherwise — in  which  they  were  uttered. 
Paul  answered  in  terms  which,  in  one  respect,  were 
surprising.  He  did  not  call  himself,  at  this  mo- 
ment, a  Christian.  He  took  his  standard  as  a  Jew, 
which  was  his  birthright,  as  a  Roman  citizen,  which 
was  his  political  status.  To  the  magistrate,  that 
was  a  complete  reply.  It  rendered  unto  Csesar  pre- 
cisely what  was  Caesar's,  and  no  more.  Paul  gave 
unto  Csesar  and  High  Priest  not  one  syllable  or 
comma  that  belonged  to  God.  His  conscience  was 
his  own.  His  devotion  to  the  Redeemer  was  his 
own.  In  that  hour  of  tumult  and  peril  and  excite- 
ment, the  inner  sanctuary  of  his  reverence  for  Our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  preserved  inviolate. 


XXXI 

PAUL  BEFORE  THE  HIGH  PRIEST 

EVERY  Christian,  when  on  trial  for  the  faith, 
stands  with  Paul,  where  first  stood  Christ. 
As  Christ  was  bound,  as  Paul  was  bound,  so  must 
the  Christian  be  bound,  restricted,  limited,  in  the 
manner  of  his  defense.  To  the  secular  jurist,  like 
Tertullus,  weapons  are  available  which  the  Chris- 
tian defendant  must  lay  aside.  Sarcasm,  flattery, 
exaggeration,  the  flames  of  rhetoric,  the  appeal  to 
passion  and  prejudice  and  cupidity — all  these  de- 
vices of  the  orator  are  excluded  from  the  apostolic 
armoury.  The  wrists  which  are  chained  cannot 
threaten ;  the  fists  which  are  tied  cannot  gesticu- 
late ;  and  there  is  no  escape — no  evasion — no  rais- 
ing of  the  ingenious  demurrer — no  opportunity  for 
elaborate  preparation.  As  Paul  faced  that  multi- 
tude, he  had  no  resources,  whether  of  money  or  of 
intellect,  except  the  resources  already  within  him. 
He  could  take  not  one  instant  of  thought,  what  he 
should  speak — what  he  should  write.  Yet  never 
did  he,  never  did  any  man  address  himself  more 
nobly  to  an  exposition  of  a  problem.  At  that 
crucial  hour,  that  hour  of  the  cross,  the  Spirit, 
though  unmentioned,  did  not  fail. 

The  Castle  at  Jerusalem  had  long  dominated  the 
Temple — Civil  Authority  was  still  exercised  over 

270 


PAUL  BEFORE  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     271 

religion.  Paul  stood  on  the  stairs  by  which  men 
ascended  from  the  often  unruly  Church  to  the 
usually  well-ordered  State.  With  the  disciplined 
soldiery  around  him,  and  the  crowd  of  worshippers 
raging  below,  he  might  have  maintained,  as  many 
students  of  public  affairs  have  done,  that  there  is  a 
good  deal  more  justice  in  law  than  in  grace,  in 
politics  than  in  proselytism,  in  parliaments  than  in 
prelacy.  No  one  can  say  truly  that  at  that  moment 
Paul  was  defending  religion.  He  was  not  thinking 
about  religion.  What  filled  him  was  Christ.  In 
Christ,  the  ancient  faith,  which  seethed  in  disorder, 
was  restored  to  a  modern  dignity;  over  Church  and 
State  alike,  Paul  established  a  new  and  personal 
authority.  He  raised  his  hand  not  to  strike  but  to 
bless.  The  chain  clanked.  The  sound  proved  that 
while  the  limbs  of  men  may  be  restricted  and  tor- 
tured, the  soul  of  man  is  unconquerable.  And  at 
the  sound  there  fell  on  the  multitude  a  great 
silence.  Thus  was  Paul  allowed  a  hearing  which 
continues  unto  this  day.  There  is  not  a  country — 
not  a  people,  where  you  will  not  find  hearts  that  be- 
come still  with  attention  when  this  great  man 
speaks. 

He  could  have  used  the  Greek  tongue.  It  was 
the  language  he  habitually  employed  in  his  corre- 
spondence— in  which,  also,  he  had  just  conversed 
with  the  captain  of  the  guard.  It  was  in  Hebrew 
that  Jesus  Himself  had  spoken  to  Paul  on  the  road 
to  Damascus.  By  a  fatal  outburst  the  trustees  for 
Hebrew  interrupted  him,  stopped  his  mouth,  and 
from  that  day  onwards  the  nations  have  depended 
less  and  less  on  the  actual  words  of  Moses,  and 
more  and  more  on  a  translated  Bible.     The  dialect 


272  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

which  cannot  be  made  a  vehicle  for  the  liberty  of 
mankind  in  Christ — for  truth,  for  beauty,  for 
ideals — is  a  dialect  which  must  inevitably  lose  its 
grip  over  consciences  of  men.  It  is  in  the  English 
Bible  that  English  has  triumphed.  Close  the  Eng- 
lish Bible  and  the  language  will  degenerate, — the 
world-wide  union  of  English  thought  and  English 
worship  will  be  shattered. 

Where  Christ  had  stood  silent,  Paul's  voice  rang 
out.  It  is  indeed  amazing — that  love  and  con- 
fidence which  led  the  Redeemer  who  spoke  as  none 
other  to  leave  His  case,  as  it  were,  for  His  fol- 
lowers to  plead.  Greater  things,  said  He,  shall  ye  do, 
because  I  go  to  the  father.  The  number  of  disciples 
won  through  Paul  was  probably  far  larger  than  the 
total  number  of  Christians  living  when  Our  Lord 
ascended.  Christ's  words  were  wonderful,  but,  in 
all  reverence,  I  submit  that  they  were  not  more 
wonderful  than  the  tribute  to  Christ  which — con- 
sidering who  the  speaker  had  been, — Paul  was  able 
to  utter.  For  Paul's  sake,  Christ  had,  by  silence, 
pleaded  guilty  of  Paul's  sin.  For  Christ's  sake, 
Paul  did,  by  utterance,  plead  happiness  by  Christ's 
salvation. 

During  their  legal  proceedings,  he  spoke,  or  tried 
to  speak,  four  times.  First,  he  addressed  democ- 
racy, a  plebiscite,  a  commune,  an  electorate.  Next, 
he  submitted  himself  to  a  conclave,  sanhedrin,  par- 
liament, congress.  Thirdly,  he  was  brought  be- 
fore Festus,  the  bureaucrat,  the  justiciary,  the  civil 
service,  the  government  machine,  the  department 
of  state.  Fourthly,  he  faced  Agrippa,  the  king,  the 
royal  family,  the  dynasty.  In  the  trial  of  Paul  all 
the  conceivable  authorities  in  Church,  State,  and 


PAUL  BEFORE  THE  HIGH  PEIEST     273 

Nation  were  involved.  It  is  not  possible  for  any 
form  of  political  organization  to  claim  that  if  it  had 
been  in  force,  things  would  have  gone  differently. 
Systems  are  imperfect  but  Justice  dwells  in  the 
hearts  of  men.  They  may  be  many,  they  may  be 
few,  but  there  is  no  Justice  except  what  springs 
from  within  them. 

When  Our  Lord  was  tried,  Justice  was  slain. 
But  in  Him,  Justice  rose  again,  and  in  the  case  of 
Paul,  Justice  merely  slept.  One  hearing  followed 
another  without  any  decision  being  reached.  Al- 
ready, it  had  become  even  in  Jerusalem  a  little 
more  difilicult  to  do  the  iniquitous  thing.  In  Christ, 
and  through  Christ,  innocence,  however  weak  in 
numbers,  was  gaining  moral  strength.  When 
Jesus  was  scourged,  nobody  protested.  That  was 
because  Jesus  had  surrendered  all  political  status 
higher  than  that  of  the  humblest  slave. 

When  that  great  assembly  realized  that  the 
apostle  was  addressing  them  in  their  native 
Hebrew,  the  silence,  already  dramatic,  deepened. 
Every  syllable  was  heard  and  every  syllable  was 
understood.  Here  was  exhibited  the  crowning 
privilege  of  a  proud  people  hearing  of  Christ,  in  no 
foreign  tongue,  but  in  their  own  familiar  accents — 
Luther  speaking  to  Germany — Tyndall  to  Eng- 
land— Moody  to  America.  It  was  the  artisan  wit- 
nessing for  Christ  in  the  workshop.  It  was  the 
millionaire  revealing  Christ  in  the  bank.  It  was 
the  doctor  bearing  Christ  to  the  clinic.  It  was  the 
clerk  showing  Christ  in  the  counting  house.  It 
was  the  Buddhist  preaching  Christ  to  Hindus;  it 
was  Booker  Washington  putting  the  Gospel  to 
Negroes.     At  that  moment,  Paul  was  the  last  of 


274  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

the  seers — he  was  prophecy  on  the  scaffold.  They 
knew  that  he  stood  in  direct  succession  to  Joshua 
when  Joshua  asked  their  forefathers  to  choose 
whom  they  would  serve;  and  to  Elijah  when  he 
appealed  to  the  God  Who  answers  by  fire.  They 
listened,  therefore,  as  a  jury,  competent  to  deter- 
mine a  suit  which  embraces  everlasting  guilt  and 
everlasting  pardon. 

Paul  had  heard  Stephen's  appeal  to  history.  At 
Antioch,  he  had  himself  adopted  it.  The  appeal 
had  failed.  From  argument  and  analogy  he 
turned  to  personal  experience  and  told  how  to  him, 
as  to  Moses  and  Isaiah,  had  come  the  beatific 
vision.  To  this  testimony  they  raised  no  objec- 
tion. Paul  was  a  Jew.  Ananias  was  a  Jew.  If 
Jesus  was  a  Messiah  for  the  Jews  alone,  they  would 
accept  Him — why  not?  He  would  be  one  more  of 
their  privileges.  Yet  another  illustrious  figure 
would  adorn  their  Pantheon.  Jesus  as  the  Saviour 
of  a  race,  as  the  prerogative  of  a  class,  awakes  no 
opposition.  In  Parliaments,  they  praise  this 
''  Christ.''  In  Courts,  they  honour  "  Him."  But 
let  the  Gentiles  be  mentioned — the  outsiders — the 
natives — and  the  mere  suggestion  that  Our  Lord 
belongs  equally  to  them,  is  yearning  to  help  them, 
and  is  sending  to  them  His  apostles,  arouses  a  pro- 
found disgust.  Paul's  crime  lay  in  this — he  in- 
sisted that  unless  Christ  be  Universal,  there  is  no 
Christ  at  all. 

Gentiles! — unto  that  word  they  gave  audience. 
Then,  at  the  word,  they  lifted  up  their  voices  and 
shouted — Away  with  such  a  fellow  from  the  earth;  for 
it  is  not  at  that  he  should  live.  The  word  Gentile  was 
enough;  yet  what  a  word  it  was.     Think  of  the 


PAUL  BEFORE  THE  HIGH  PKIEST      275 

innumerable  homes,  in  every  climate,  where  ob- 
scure and  nameless  families  struggle  bravely 
through  life, — little  children  learning  to  vi^alk  and 
talk — young  men  and  maidens  renewing  romance — 
sickness  and  accident  descending  on  the  strong — 
and  all  ushered  finally  into  a  comprehensive  yet 
mysterious  tomb.  Think  how  the  merchant  and 
the  trader  have  robbed  the  Gentiles,  polluted  the 
customs  of  the  Gentiles  with  lust  and  opium  and 
alcohol,  despised  the  manhood  and  womanhood  of 
the  Gentiles,  menaced  the  very  existence  of  the 
Gentiles  with  bayonet  and  bullet  and  brigandage ! 
To  suggest  that  Christ  is  to  be  carried  to  the 
Gentiles,  that  the  best  in  art,  in  literature,  in  jus- 
tice, in  love  may  be  theirs  as  well  as  ours,  is  to 
proclaim  a  revolution.  If  we  do  not  perceive  this, 
the  Jews  did.  They  filled  the  heavens  with  one 
last  futile  roar  of  protest — anything,  thought  they, 
to  stop  the  discussion.  Put  any  rubbish  in  the 
papers — prize-fights,  puppet-shows,  or  poetry — ex- 
cept this  one  word — the  Gentiles.  Throw  dust  into 
the  people's  eyes — any  kind  of  dust — misrepresen- 
tation, calumny,  false  political  issues — rather  than 
let  people  realize  the  actual  needs  and  wrongs  and 
breathing  life  of  the  Gentiles.  For  that  word. 
Gentile,  is  international.  It  means  the  coordina- 
tion of  races  and  classes  in  one  common  demand 
for  life  and  happiness.  It  is  formidable.  It  sweeps 
away  the  local  temple.  It  obliterates  the  castle. 
It  clamours  for  something  which  statesmen  by 
politics  cannot  supply.  It  will  have  a  rule  which 
statesmen  reject.  Once  utter  the  word  Gentile  and 
your  world  rocks  and  reels  until  you  found  it  afresh 
upon  Christ. 


276     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

The  chief  captain  standing  there  by  Paul  is  also  a 
monumental  figure.  He  represents  the  blindness 
of  martial  law — the  very  essence  of  Prussianism. 
He  watched  the  tumult  but  could  not  understand  it, 
and,  since  any  man  in  any  regiment  who  fails  to 
keep  step  should  be  severely  disciplined,  he  as- 
sumed that  Paul,  the  individual,  was  guilty.  He 
was  ready  to  govern  the  Jew,  but  would  have  been 
insulted  at  the  idea  of  learning  the  Jew's  language, 
studying  the  Jew's  religion,  getting  behind  the 
Jew's  thought.  His  plan  was  simply  to  scourge 
Paul,  to  shoot  every  tenth  rioter,  to  terrorize  unrest 
into  submission.  ,  His  soldiers  were  actually  bind- 
ing the  apostle  without  the  chief  captain  realizing 
for  a  moment  that  his  prisoner  had  been  fighting 
the  battle  of  the  whole  Roman  Empire.  What  was 
that  empire  but  an  organization  of  Gentiles?  To 
bring  the  Best  to  all  peoples  was  to  secure  the 
empire  for  all  time  to  come. 

Christians  have  often  argued  the  question 
whether  Paul  was  right  or  wrong  when  at  this 
terrible  moment  he  claimed  his  rights  as  a  Roman 
citizen.  It  was,  to  be  frank,  a  privilege,  either  of 
wealth,  as  in  the  chief  captain's  case,  or  of  birth,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  apostle.  It  meant  at  that  time  a 
different  rule  for  the  aristocrat  and  plutocrat  than 
for  the  plebeian.  It  implied  an  easier  code  of  jus- 
tice for  the  big  man  than  for  the  small  man — first 
class  and  second  class  and  third  class  imprisonment 
according  to  your  social  position.  Paul  took  the 
view  that  it  is  policy,  not  to  sacrifice  the  rights  of 
the  few  where  in  themselves  they  are  reasonable, 
but  to  extend  these  rights  to  the  many.  The  same 
principle  by  which  he  defended  the  Gentiles  led  him 


PAUL  BEFORE  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     2?? 

to  assert  his  own  citizenship — namely,  the  dignity 
of  man.  At  Philippi  he  had  submitted  without  a 
murmur  to  the  rod  because  at  PhiHppi  his  com- 
panion was  Silas  who  did  not  enjoy  his  civic  im- 
munity. In  Jerusalem  he  stood  alone.  No  Silas 
was  involved  in  his  peril,  and  having-  more  than 
once  suffered  willingly  the  pain  and  humiliation  of 
a  flogging,  he  did  indeed  demonstrate  his  readiness 
so  to  do,  by  showing  how  simply  he  could  have 
escaped.  The  mere  fact  that  Armenians  are  mur- 
dered and  that  there  have  been  rubber  horrors  on 
the  Congo  does  not  invalidate  British  and  Ameri- 
can citizenship  to  which  countless  coloured  persons 
have  been  admitted. 

Moreover,  of  all  reformers,  Christ  was  perhaps^ 
the  only  one  Who,  being  Himself  utterly  poor,) 
could  be  completely  fair  to  the  utterly  rich.  As 
He  did  not  ask  Paul  to  surrender  his  citizenship, 
so  He  does  not  say  to  kings,  abdicate;  or  to  di- 
rectors, resign;  or  to  dukes,  deny  your  ancestry. 
He  claims  the  sceptre,  He  initials  the  ledger.  He 
seals  the  title  deed.  Life  is  not  levelled ;  it  is  conse- 
crated. To  all  of  us  there  is  a  position,  at  our 
office,  in  our  kitchen,  or  club,  or  plant  or  mine  or 
factory  or  farm,  which  is  to  us  what  citizenship  was 
to  Paul,  provided  that  we  use  it  frankly,  as  for  Him. 

Knowing  not  the  fear  of  God,  the  chief  captain 
was  at  least  moved  by  the  fear  of  Rome.  Paul  was 
not  scourged.  Next  day,  unhurt,  he  was  brought 
before  the  Sanhedrin.  The  crime  of  the  State  was 
not  to  begin  until  the  crime  of  the  Church  was 
complete.  In  that  council,  you  had  the  selected 
intelligence  of  a  free  people — the  men  who  had 
enjoyed  the  advantages  of  birth  and  education — the 


278^  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

bench  of  bishops,  sitting  as  spiritual  peers, — the 
cardinal  princes  of  the  faith — the  university  con- 
stituency. Yet  at  Paul's  first  innocent  sentence, 
ecclesiastical  and  academic  rancour  smote  him  on 
the  mouth.  It  was  a  blov/  delivered  by  express 
order  of  Ananias,  the  high  priest.  Swayed  by 
gusts  of  passion,  the  multitude  had  been  none  the 
less  a  far  more  merciful  and  reliable  court  of  justice. 
At  least,  the  common  people  had  given  Paul  a  hear- 
ing; Ananias  was  the  first  of  the  holy  inquisitors, 
the  earliest  judge  of  a  star  chamber,  the  censor  of 
free  speech,  the  instigator  of  secret  trials.  Learn- 
ing and  scholarship  have  a  value  but  in  them- 
selves they  are  useless  as  guarantees  of  equity.  It 
was  such  study  that  trained  Torquemada  and  made 
modern  Germany.  Unconsecrated  knowledge,  like 
any  other  form  of  unconsecrated  power,  is  bound 
to  be  abused. 

The  long  history  of  the  Jews  as  a  nation  was 
approaching  its  tragic  termination.  The  last  great 
scene  in  those  wonderful  annals  was  this  appear- 
ance of  Paul,  the  Pharisee  and  the  apostle,  the 
Israelite  and  the  disciple,  before  the  Sanhedrin. 
From  his  youth  onwards,  the  majestic  surround- 
ings of  the  Temple  had  been  familiar  to  him.  His 
judges  had  been  personal  friends  and  when  he 
spoke  to  them,  the  intimate  word  ''  brethren  "  leapt 
to  his  lips.  Luke,  the  physician,  was  quick  to  note 
the  curious  contraction  of  his  brows  as,  without 
spectacles,  he  endeavoured  to  recognize  the  priests 
and  rabbis  around  him.  Even  the  high  priest  in 
his  robes  was  beyond  the  range  of  his  blurred 
vision  and  it  must  have  seemed  to  the  apostle  as  if 
the  regime  which  began  with  Abraham  was  already 


PAUL  BEFORE  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     279 

idim  and  Indistinct  to  eyes  dazzled  by  the  new  reve- 
lation of  God. 

Between  the  trials  of  Jesus  and  Paul  there  are 
many  parallels.  In  both  cases  the  Jews  prosecuted 
and  the  Romans  punished.  It  was  wrong  religion 
that  led  astray  right  politics.  If  the  cases  resemble 
one  another,  it  is  because  there  was  no  offense 
against  man  which  was  not  also  an  offense  against 
God.  Yet  a  clear  distinction  may  be  drawn 
between  the  two  prisoners  at  the  bar — between  the 
Christ  Who  was  scourged  and  the  Christian  who 
claimed  immunity — between  Him  Who  when  struck 
with  the  hand  calmly  reasoned,  and  His  servant 
who  indignantly  denounced — between  the  silent 
Nazarene,  and  the  subtle  Pharisee  who  raised  a  di- 
version over  the  resurrection.  Measured  by  any 
standard  save  Our  Lord's,  the  behaviour  of  Paul 
was  sublime.  But  compared  with  the  Example, 
the  copy  was  imperfect.  It  could  not  have  been 
otherwise. 

To  Jesus,  regarding  human  life  from  the  immeas- 
urable altitude  of  divinity,  priests  and  governors 
and  kings  were  merely  men,  to  be  treated  with  re- 
spect only  because  respect  is  due  to  all  when  coun- 
tenances are  moulded  in  the  image  of  God.  To 
Paul,  who  approached  the  institution  of  society,  as 
it  were,  from  the  ground  floor,  Ananias  the  priest, 
Festus  the  governor  and  Agrlppa  the  king  were 
dignitaries,  of  whom  no  evil  must  be  spoken. 
Stripped  of  his  robes,  the  high  priest  might  resem- 
ble a  whited  wall.  But  officially  arrayed,  the  man*s 
person  was  sacred.  No  prisoner,  hov/ever  unjustly 
charged,  must  rail  against  a  judge  in  ermine. 

At  this  decisive  moment,  Paul's  attitude  was  thus 


280     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

essentially  conservative.  He  stood  for  divine  right, 
for  the  law,  for  texts  of  Scripture,  which  he  quoted 
in  every  sentence, — and  he  did  not  mention  the 
Gentiles.  He  made  a  last  attempt  as  a  Pharisee 
and  a  son  of  Pharisees  to  rally  Pharisees  to  that 
truth  of  their  own  resurrection  which  was  fulfilled 
alone  in  Christ.  And  it  almost  seemed  as  if  he 
would  succeed.  Against  the  modern  materialism 
of  the  Sadducees  the  Pharisees  rose  in  wrath.  A 
roar  of  judgment  filled  the  air.  If  theological  con- 
troversy could  have  saved  the  nation,  here  it  was  in 
all  vehemence.  As  champion  of  the  orthodox, 
Paul  became  at  once  a  hero.  ''  We  find  no  evil  in 
him,"  they  cried,  ''  if  angel  or  spirit  hath  spoken  to  him, 
let  ns  not  fight  against  God.''  For  an  instant  the 
situation  looked  hopeful,  but  it  came  a  day  too  late. 
The  Pharisees  were  like  men  of  privilege  in  every 
century,  who  make  tardy  concessions  when  the  re- 
volt is  out  of  hand. 

For  as  the  quarrel  developed,  suddenly  Rome 
stepped  in,  removed  the  prisoner,  and  the  House  of 
Israel  became,  as  it  were,  dramatically  empty. 
With  the  rescue  of  Paul,  not  one  further  syllable  is 
wasted  upon  Ananias  the  high  priest  and  the 
fiercely  contending  factions.  That  lurid  disorder 
of  minds  which  refused  the  mastership  of  Our  Lord 
vanishes,  like  a  shifting  scene,  into  outer  darkness. 
It  was  the  beginning  of  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem. Here  were  the  feuds  which  wrecked  the 
Holy  City.  The  flames  that  consumed  the  Tem- 
ple were  kindled  first  in  the  hearts  of  the  priests 
who  served,  the  people  who  worshipped  and  the 
rabbis  who  prayed  and  preached. 


XXXII 
THE  STRUGGLE  WITH  FELIX 

THESE  are  days  when  crowns  and  thrones  do 
perish — empires  wax  and  wane.  Much  has 
been  said  against  reHgion,  but  statesmen  are  also 
on  trial.  When  the  Jews  prosecuted  Paul,  they 
were  wrong.  But  when  Rome  rescued  him,  Rome 
became  responsible  for  seeing  that  justice  was 
done.  For  the  person  of  Paul,  as  for  the  person 
of  Christ,  the  civil  and  military  power  was  then 
trustee.  Politicians  do  not  escape  judgment  by^ 
sneering  at  parsons.  It  may  be  true  that  the  par- 
son has  the  pulpit,  but  presidents  and  kings  and 
prime  ministers  have  the  treasury  and  the  army 
and  the  navy  and  the  police  and  the  post-office.  If 
they  fail  to  do  right,  history  will  not  pardon.  They 
also  have  no  excuse. 

On  what  did  the  success  of  the  Roman  Empire 
depend?  On  the  Emperor?  He  is  not  mentioned. 
If  I  say  that  the  Emperor  was  Nero  and  that  he 
happened  about  that  time  to  be  murdering  his  de- 
generate mother  Agrippina,  it  is  because  I  have 
looked  him  up  in  books,  unread  compared  with  the 
Bible.  What  held  the  empire  together  was  the 
conduct  of  the  average  official,  of  Felix  and  Festus, 
of  the  chief  captain,  Claudius  Lysias,  and  his  cen- 
turions.    In  their  behaviour  we  see  the  good  and 

281 


282     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

the  bad  in  bureaucracy.  They  kept  order.  Their 
discipline  was  strict.  As  the  case  of  FeUx  shows, 
however,  they  were  open  to  bribery.  They  obeyed 
the  more  obvious  rules — respecting  Paul  as  a  citi- 
zen and  defending  him  against  riot  or  secret  assas- 
sination. Whatever  equity  can  be  instilled  into 
men's  minds  by  a  code,  these  men  practiced  but 
they  failed  at  the  crucial  point.  Their  sense  of 
justice  was  on  paper,  not  in  the  heart.  They  were 
loyal  to  Rome,  but  with  a  string  tied  to  self.  They 
wanted  right,  but  they  wanted  it  with  profit  and 
without  risk.  They  kept  their  consciences  band- 
kged  in  red  tape.  And  the  State  suffered.  No 
man  can  truly  serve  an  earthly  monarch  until  his 
will  has  been  surrendered  to  the  King  of  Kings  and 
Lord  of  Lords. 

Take  Claudius  Lysias'  first.  His  official  testi- 
mony is  that  "  nothing  worthy  of  death  or  of  bonds 
was  laid  to  the  charge  of  Paul."  In  other  words, 
he  quashed  the  indictment.  He  could  find  no  case 
to  submit  to  the  jury.  This  decision  should  have 
been  followed  at  once  by  Paul's  release.  If  the 
simple  thing  had  been  done,  the  State  would  have 
been  saved  years  of  trouble  and  great  expense. 
But  Claudius  Lysias  substituted  policy  for  equity. 
It  meant  that  two  hundred  foot  soldiers,  seventy 
horsemen  and  two  hundred  spearmen  had  to  be  set 
aside  as  a  truly  royal  escort  for  Paul,  a  prisoner. 
It  meant  that  Tertullus,  the  leading  advocate, 
earned  a  handsome  fee.  It  meant  that  as  the  case 
was  handed  from  Lysias  to  Felix  and  from  Felix 
to  Festus  and  from  Festus  to  Agrippa,  it  created  a 
political  problem  between  Jew  and  Roman  of  ever- 
increasing  perplexity.     Trial  by  law  and  by  equity 


THE  STRUGGLE  WITH  FELIX  283 

was  gradually  superseded  by  trial  at  the  bar  of 
public  opinion.  And  finally  the  Emperor  himself 
was  involved.  All  this  would  have  been  avoided  if 
at  the  outset  the  right  step  had  been  taken. 

Claudius  Lysias  doubtless  imagined  that  his  let- 
ter to  the  most  excellent  governor  Felix  was  a 
model  of  literary  officialdom.  It  was,  of  course, 
the  opening  document  in  Paul's  criminal  dossier. 
Luke  was  so  impressed  by  it  that  he  kept  a  careful 
copy  and  made  it  the  basis  on  which  he  drafted  his 
two  dedications — first  of  the  Gospel  and  then  of  the 
Acts — to  "  the  most  excellent  Theophilus."  He 
liked  this  ancient  and  decorous  jargon  of  courts 
and  parliaments  and  chancellories.  But  with  the 
passage  of  time,  it  has  become  mere  pompous  folly, 
— as  fusty  as  the  ermine  and  velvet  of  Potsdam  or 
Vienna — and  Luke's  admiration  has  turned  to  an 
irony  of  which  he  never  dreamt.  About  the  break- 
down of  modern  civilization  there  is  no  mystery. 
It  happened  here, — the  entire  drama, — for  our 
warning  and  instruction. 

With  the  State  hesitating  over  a  plain  issue,  dark 
forces  gathered  underground.  The  forty  men  who 
bound  themselves  neither  to  eat  nor  drink  till  they 
had  killed  Paul  were  like  the  Black  Hand  in  Russia 
or  the  military  clique  in  Germany, — the  Ultra- 
montanes — the  political  Jesuits — the  Die  Hards — 
the  counter-revolutionaries — who  as  legitimists  are 
ever  wanting  to  bring  back  the  Bourbons  and  make 
a  new  monarch  out  of  some  headless  mummy. 
Against  Christ  also  there  were  similar  conspiracies. 
Of  this  plot  the  authorities  disapproved.  But  they, 
were  bound  to  recognize  its  high  ecclesiastical  pat-' 
ronage.     There   were  high   priests   and   prelates. 


284     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

who  without  perceptible  sacrifice  of  sleep  or  diet, 
knew  all  about  it  and  they  were  to  assist  by  asking 
a  further  audience  of  Paul.  The  old  men  instigated 
— the  young  men  bore  the  brunt.  It  was  pitiable 
indeed  that  such  enthusiasm  should  be  perverted 
by  cunning  statecraft  to  such  despicable  ends.  The 
danger  of  neglecting  or  repudiating  the  Christ  has 
,always  been  this  uncertainty  as  to  who  or  what  will 
take  His  place.  The  choice  is  not  between  His 
Gospel  and  nothing — not  between  His  Gospel  and 
philosophy  or  art  or  pleasure.  It  is  Christ  or  Bar- 
abbas — gospel  or  murder — salvation  or  the  stiletto. 

At  this  point  we  hear  for  the  first  and  last  time  of 
Paul's  sister  and  that  sister's  son.  It  may  be  that 
the  severity  of  the  apostle's  judgment  against  John 
Mark,  sister's  son  to  Barnabas,  was  accentuated  by 
the  estrangement  in  his  own  family  which  was  so 
complete  that  hospitality  itself  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  guests  of  Mnason  from  Cyprus,  Paul 
and  Luke  hardly  knew  the  name  of  the  youth — 
the  apostle's  nephew — who,  by  an  act  of  splendid 
gallantry,  defeated  the  conspirators.  He  was  a 
Jew.  By  descent,  he  was  like  Paul  a  Pharisee.  He 
was  at  that  very  age  when  Paul  had  held  the  clothes 
of  those  who  stoned  Stephen.  The  plotters  were 
among  his  associates.  Disliking  Paul,  as  they  did, 
he  heard  with  surprise  and  horror  the  gradual  yet 
rapid  disclosure  of  their  cruel  intentions.  In  his 
revulsion  of  feeling,  we  note  the  reaction  against 
violence  which  always  follows  even  the  most  popu- 
lar crimes.  This  young  man  declared  the  verdict 
of  the  future. 

At  dead  of  night,  he  made  his  way  to  that 
dreaded  castle.     Of  his  own  will,  no  man  had  ever 


THE  STRUGGLE  WITH  FELIX  285 

sought  the  shadow  of  those  pitiless  buttresses  and 
bastions.  The  compulsion  of  duty  made  this  young 
man  a  Christian.  He  must  simply  "  do  his  bit." 
They  took  him  to  Paul  and  he  found  Paul  awake. 
In  the  manner  of  the  apostle,  there  was  a  wonder- 
ful confidence  of  which  the  secret  was  not  then  dis- 
closed. He  did  not  praise  the  young  man.  He  did 
not  talk  religion  to  him.  He  handed  him  over  to 
the  centurion,  to  the  chief  captain, — that  is,  to 
greater  peril,  to  more  dangerous  service.  Without 
one  needless  word,  the  young  man  went  where  he 
was  told  to  go.  The  plot  was  exposed  and  Paul 
was  sent  for  safety  to  Csesarea. 

He  tried  to  do  his  duty — that  is  the  only  epitaph 
of  this  nameless  youth  who  was  left  in  Jerusalem  to 
face  the  wrath  of  the  conspirators  whose  felonious 
intent  he  had  foiled.  In  his  straight,  sincere  mind, 
there  was  no  room  for  guilty  information — for  se- 
crets withheld  from  those  who  had  a  right  to  know 
— he  acknowledged  that  thought  itself  belongs  to 
God.  As  he  walked,  bravely  yet  modestly  through 
the  corridors  of  the  castle,  passed  the  block  black 
with  blood,  the  dripping  scourges,  the  ominous  axe, 
he  was  marching  really  straight  across  the  page  of 
ineradicable  history. 

A  city  is  drifting  near  destruction"  when  for  any 
reason  life  is  not  safe  within  its  boundaries.  Paul 
removed  to  Cassarea  meant  the  end  of  Jerusalem  as 
a  capital.  From  turbulence  to  rebellion  is  but  a 
step  and  what  Jerusalem  rebelled  against  was 
order,  justice,  mercy.  It  was  not  the  vice  but  the 
virtue  of  Rome  that  Mount  Zion  resisted.  The 
wars  of  liberation,  which  so  soon  broke  out,  were 
provoked  by  the  depravity,  not  the  nobleness  of  the 


286     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

small  nation  which  revolted.  The  self-determina- 
tion was  a  determination  to  selfishness — to  passion, 
pride  and  malice.  The  patriotism  was  the  last 
refuge  of  scoundrels,  and  it  was  shattered,  unre- 
gretted. 

There  are  two  complaints  which  ordinary  folk 
make  about  lawyers.  First,  they  plead  for  a  fee, 
which  puts  the  poor  man  at  a  disadvantage.  Sec- 
ondly, they  speak  from  a  brief  in  which  there  may 
be  written  down  many  statements  that  must,  if 
uttered,  pervert  justice.  An  instance  in  point  was 
Tertullus,  the  orator,  who,  in  the  hearing  before 
Felix  at  Caesarea,  prosecuted  Paul.  As  an  advo- 
cate, he  was  thoroughly  dishonest.  His  only  idea 
was  to  win  his  case.  He  wanted  victory  because 
victory  in  the  court  meant  professional  success. 
His  was  the  usual  standard  of  the  pagan  bar.  He 
was  neither  better  nor  worse  than  the  rest.  He 
was  wholly  unconscious  that  his  methods  were  un- 
dermining respect  for  jurisprudence  and  preparing 
the  ground  for  that  anarchy  which  ultimately  over- 
whelmed the  Roman  Empire. 

His  compliments  to  Felix  w^ere  in  themselves  an 
attempt  to  divert  the  issue  from  fact  to  emotion, 
from  truth  to  flattery,  and  to  give  Felix  his  due,  he 
seems  to  have  betrayed  a  touch  of  impatience  at 
the  adulation.  The  accusation  against  Paul  was 
not  that  he  was  a  pestilent  fellow  of  bad  character, 
for  he  was  known  to  be  a  strict  Pharisee.  He  had 
not  stirred  up  riots  all  over  the  world  but  had  usu- 
ally left  cities  behind  where  owing  to  the  Jews  riots 
had  occurred.  He  had  not  profaned  the  Temple 
but  had  sought  to  win  for  the  Temple  the  love  and 
admiration  of  the  Gentiles.     He  was  certainly  a 


THE  STRUGGLE  WITH  FELIX  287 

ringleader  of  a  sect  of  the  Nazarenes, — but  why 
not  have  said  simply,  a  disciple  of  Jesus?  Why  use 
the  terms  which  introduce  prejudice?  It  was  the 
usual  lawyer's  trick.  Study  the  prejudice  of  the 
juryman  and  play  on  it. 

I  do  not  deny  that  there  were,  prima  facie, 
grounds  for  an  indictment  against  Paul.  Any  one 
involved  in  civil  disturbance  may  have  to  answer 
for  his  conduct.  Nor  am  I  suggesting  that  the 
Jews,  as  party  to  the  suit,  had  no  right  to  employ 
legal  assistance.  But  what  vitiated  the  proceed- 
ings was  the  artifice  whereby  Tertullus  evaded  the 
points  in  question,  which  I  take  to  be  three — first, 
did  Paul  in  fact  introduce  Trophimus  the  Ephesian 
into  the  Temple?  Secondly,  was  this  act,  if  com- 
mitted, illegal?  And,  thirdly,  if  the  act  were  com- 
mitted and  if  it  were  illegal,  what  was  a  suitable 
and  adequate  punishment  for  an  offense,  appar- 
ently so  trivial?  The  trespass  had  injured  nobody. 
The  Temple  was  entirely  undamaged.  A  simple 
fine  or  undertaking  not  to  repeat  the  indiscretion 
would  surely  have  met  the  situation. 

Like  Christ,  Paul  had  no  counsel  to  defend  him. 
But  his  rejoinder  is  everything  that  legal  advocacy 
should  be.  He  frankly  admitted  that,  according  to 
the  Jews,  he  was  a  heretic.  Without  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  he  stated  precisely  where  the  difference 
of  opinion  lay.  If  heresy  be  a  civil  crime,  Paul 
pleaded  guilty.  In  the  Middle  Ages  few  tribunals 
would  have  acquitted  him.  But  he  defined  heresy 
in  his  own  way.  It  was  not  the  negation  of  law 
and  prophets.  It  was  the  right  to  interpret  them. 
It  was  not  a  denial  of  Messianic  hope.  It  was  the 
declaration  that  Christ  is  risen.    If  Christ  be  risen, 


288     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

He  speaks,  He  says  new  things,  He  does  fresh 
deeds.  An  active  Christ  was  Paul's  only  misde- 
meanour. 

Felix  listened  and  was  impressed.  As  Paul 
spoke,  it  seems  as  if  Ananias  the  high  priest  and 
Tertullus  the  orator  and  the  entire  mob  of  angry 
ecclesiastics  recede  into  the  background,  and  when 
he  finished,  they  have  disappeared  forever — written 
clean  off  the  slate.  We  are  left  with  Paul's  spir- 
itual authority,  calm  and  confident,  while  the  civil 
authority  trembles.  Confronted  by  Christ,  first  in 
His  own  Person,  and  secondly  in  the  person  of  His 
apostle,  the  Roman  power  hesitates,  is  attracted, 
becomes  timid,  then  selfish,  and  finally  cruel.  I 
can  imagine  no  spectacle  more  astonishing  to  the 
witness  than  the  movement  of  this  mighty  admin- 
istrative machine  along  the  line  of  destiny  towards 
the  junction,  where  men's  motives  switch  the  points 
to  right  or  left. 

First,  you  have  the  law's  delays.  Claudius  Lysias 
must  be  summoned  and,  for  some  reason,  Claudius 
Lysias  was  not  easily  available.  Then  the  case 
began  to  be  fashionable.  Drusilla,  the  wife  of 
Felix,  of  the  house  of  Herod,  took  an  interest  in  it, 
and,  as  a  Jewess,  enjoyed  the  apostle's  eloquence. 
Poor  Drusilla — destined  to  die  by  fire  in  Pompeii! 
People  crowded  into  the  court.  Ladies  begged  the 
ushers  for  tickets.  Paul  gained  many  a  rich  and 
powerful  friend.  He  was  permitted  to  live  on 
parole.  Every  one  who  was  anybody  interviewed 
him.  Yet  his  popularity  was  cruel.  Not  one  of 
his  admirers  sought  his  release. 

Felix,  whose  very  name  means  fortunate,  trem- 
bled.    Here    was    this    strange    prisoner,    charged 


THE  STRUGGLE  WITH  FELIX  289 

with  fomenting  anarchy,  yet  reasoning  in  cold 
Roman  logic  about  justice  and  the  restraint  of  self 
and  the  judgment  to  come.  The  man  who  was  in 
the  right,  though  standing  in  the  dock,  put  the  gov- 
ernor on  his  throne  in  the  wrong.  Suddenly,  Felix 
discovered  that  he  and  all  he  represented  were  now 
on  trial  for  life.  His  wealth,  his  country's  com- 
mercial system,  its  armies  and  navies,  its  diplomacy 
— all  were  put  to  the  test  of  a  law,  administered  by 
an  Eternal  Justice. 

Felix  was  a  typical  politician.  He  regarded  Paul 
as  a  deputation.  He  agreed  that  many  matters 
ought  to  be  put  straight.  A  case  had  been  made 
out.  No  exception  could  be  taken  to  the  way  that 
Paul  had  put  the  facts.  To  anybody  acquainted 
with  parliaments,  how  familiar  it  all  sounds !  But, 
of  course, — thought  Felix — care  must  be  exercised 
in  applying  remedies.  It  is  so  easy  to  do  more 
harm  than  good.  Nothing  could  be  managed  that 
session.  The  next  session  might  be  more  conve- 
nient. The  bill  must  stand  over.  The  house  must 
adjourn.  The  Jewish  vote  must  not  be  antago- 
nized. Last  but  not  least,  no  injustice  must  be 
done  to  men's  pockets.  It  was  the  custom  for  even 
innocent  people  to  pay  the  usual  something  through 
the  usual  channels  for  the  usual  acquittal.  Why 
should  Paul  be  an  exception?  If  he  were  liberated, 
gratis,  the  entire  system  of  bribery  and  corruption, 
on  which  rested  Drusilla's  social  prestige — her 
jewels  and  dresses,  her  slaves  and  her  perfumes — 
broke  down.  Until  the  usual  graft  were  paid,  there 
would  be  inevitably  some  technical  objection  to 
Paul  regaining  freedom. 

Then  suddenly  Felix  was  superseded  by  Festus. 


290     THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

The  crisis  came.  His  wife  had  not  trembled.  She 
was  the  one  who  had  the  nerve.  Her  friends  per- 
suaded her  to  use  her  influence,  and  to  please  the 
Jews  Paul's  privileges  were  terminated,  his  parole 
was  cancelled,  the  chain  was  restored,  he  was  left 
bound.  To  gain  his  little  fragment  of  the  world, 
so  pitifully  small  and  transitory,  Felix  lost  his  soul. 
The  man  who  might  have  saved  the  empire  for 
truth  and  the  right,  returned  to  the  crowd  undis- 
tinguishable  save  by  the  bitter  memory  of  the 
chance  that  would  never  come  again. 

What  was  the  secret  of  Paul's  wonderful  dignity 
— his  incomparable  nerve?  He  was  a  man  of 
vision.  Less  fortunate  than  St.  John  the  Divine  he 
was  often  quite  unable  to  describe  what  he  saw  even 
when  he  entered  the  seventh  heaven.  But  how- 
ever dark  the  night,  he  was  never  lonely.  He  was 
always  sure  of  a  visitor.  In  his  dungeon,  as  on 
board  his  ship,  the  Lord  Himself  stood  by  him  and 
bade  him  be  of  good  cheer.  By  temperament  no 
man  has  ever  been  more  excitable,  yet  his  serenity 
was  what  he  himself  called  the  peace  of  God  that 
passeth  all  understanding. 


XXXIII 
THE  FIGHT  FOR  FESTUS 

WHEN  great  crimes  are  committed  by  the 
State,  it  is  sometimes  possible  for  some  of 
us  to  escape  the  blame  by  arguing  that  our  party 
was  not  in  ofifice— that  it  was  the  other  fellow  who 
did  it.  Felix  was  an  individual.  But  when  Felix 
and  Lysias  and  Festus  are  joined  in  one  policy,  you 
cannot  any  longer  attribute  what  happened  to  the 
accident  of  an  individual,— the  very  heart  of  society 
is  arraigned. 

Of  all  the  hard  fates  which  tyranny  inflicts,  none 
equals  in  intensity  of  suffering  the  abandonment  of 
an  untried  prisoner  to  years  of  oblivion.  To  be 
misjudged  is  cruel,  but  to  be  forgotten  is  cruelty 
with  insult.  Festus  landed  at  Cassarea,  swept  on  to 
Jerusalem,  with  not  one  thought  of  Paul,  chafing 
under  his  chain.  There  were  no  riots  to  revive  the 
cause  celebre.  No  appeal  was  made  by  any  of  Paul's 
friends.  If  only  the  Jews  had  let  ill  alone,  Paul 
might  have  languished  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  un- 
noticed by  the  historian. 

But  it  is  as  a  rule,  sometimes  overlooked,  that 
whenever  wrong  is  done  by  any  one  however  pow- 
erful to  any  one  however  humble,  a  ghost  walks 
abroad  uneasily  and  will  not  be  allayed.  The  Jews 
were  aware  that  Paul  still  thought  those  thoughts 

291 


292     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET^ 

which  they  hated,  that  his  tongue  was  not  yet 
silenced,  that  his  cause  still  prospered.  In  this  af- 
fair, there  was  something  which  could  not  be 
crushed,  at  any  rate  in  Csesarea,  and  they  begged 
Festus  to  bring  Paul  back  to  Jerusalem,  along  a 
road  which  they  would  hallow  by  assassination. 
That  the  murderous  intent  now  included  the  whole 
Sanhedrin  is  clear  from  the  narrative.  The  evil 
had  spread  from  few  to  many  and  no  longer  feared 
the  light.  From  an  unavowed  artifice  the  dagger 
had  become  a  recognized  instrument  of  State. 

The  difference  between  Festus  and  the  Jews  was 
perhaps  important.  They  had  slain  Christ;  Festus 
hardly  knew  who  Christ  was.  If  he  was  shocked 
by  the  attitude  of  the  Jews,  and  resisted  it,  the  rea- 
son was  that  a  heart  which  is  merely  ignorant  of 
the  Saviour  is  less  hard  than  the  heart  which  has 
repudiated  Him.  A  man  who  looks  Christ  in  the 
face  and  then  turns  his  back  is  afterwards  capable 
of  any  brutality.  Festus  told  the  Jews  bluntly  that 
Paul  would  remain  out  of  their  clutches,  in  Ca^s- 
area.  Jerusalem,  as  mistress  of  righteousness, 
was  deposed. 

To  Ca^sarea,  then,  the  Jews  made  their  journey. 
Their  numbers  were  formidable.  Their  clamour 
was  vehement.  To  reason  with  them  had  long 
been  impossible.  With  the  sin  of  the  partisan, — 
the  man  who  puts  party  first  and  Christ  second — 
they  were  consumed.  Nothing  mattered  except 
their  passion.  The  fact  that  by  their  madness  they 
were  bringing  their  country  into  danger  entirely 
escaped  their  minds.  In  the  behaviour  of  these 
men  there  is  apparent  the  fearful  morass  which 
awaits  society  when  society  will  not  bear  the  rule 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  FESTUS  293 

of  Him  Who  is  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  Mighty 
God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

On  a  great  occasion  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  though  des- 
tined to  be  Lord  of  all  men,  laid  aside  His  garments 
and  washed  His  disciples'  feet,  saying  unto  them, 
"  One  is  your  Master  even  Christ  and  all  ye  are  breth- 
ren"  By  these  words  He  claimed  that  no  power 
is  rightly  to  be  exercised,  save  by  His  authority; 
any  other  use  of  force  is  usurpation.  In  Festus, 
the  mastery  over  other  men,  uninfluenced  by  the 
one  Master,  had  developed  an  infamous  cunning. 
As  an  official,  he  ignored  whatever  had  been  his 
conscience  and  was  quite  ready  to  trick  a  poor  and 
lonely  prisoner  out  of  a  fair  trial  by  proposing 
blandly  that  his  case  should  be  heard  before  a 
packed  court  and  a  hanging  jury.  The  sinister 
suavity  of  his  demeanour  only  made  his  real  motive 
the  more  odious.  Paul  was  to  be  done  to  death 
either  by  a  judicial  murder  or  by  a  tolerated  assassi- 
nation. In  the  one  event,  the  crime  would  be 
camouflaged  by  the  forms  of  justice.  In  the  other, 
it  would  be  a  regrettable  but  unforeseen  accident. 
However  it  happened,  Festus  would  wash  his 
hands,  as  Pilate  did,  of  the  whole  affair,  arguing  if 
pressed  some  political  necessity  or  reason  of  state. 

Already  Paul  had  been  under  arrest  for  two 
whole  years.  When  he  reached  Rome,  his  cause 
dragged  on  for  another  two  years  before  he  was 
granted  a  first  hearing.  The  entire  proceedings 
must  have  occupied  as  long  a  period  as  the  trial  of 
Warren  Hastings.  But  with  this  difference.  The 
prosecution  of  the  Indian  consul  opened  brilliantly 
but  interest  soon  declined,  whereas  with  every  day 
of  Paul's  progress  to  a  martyr's  death  attention 


294     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

deepened.  From  the  Sanhedrin  to  Felix,  from 
Felix  to  Festus,  from  Festus  to  Agrippa,  from 
Agrippa  to  Nero,  the  heroism  of  this  man  drew  him 
in  a  triumphal  parade.  Each  scene  transcends  all 
that  preceded  it.  And  inevitably.  The  path  of 
the  just  is  as  a  shining  light  that  shineth  more  and 
more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

In  the  palace  of  Caesarea,  hunted  by  the  malice  of 
Jews  on  the  one  hand  and  by  the  merciless  state- 
craft of  Roman  politicians  on  the  other,  his  life  and 
limb  in  deadly  peril,  his  reputation  wickedly  slan- 
dered and  his  career  wantonly  wrecked,  this  soli- 
tary missioner,  stricken  in  health,  his  face  furrowed 
with  age,  his  hands  rough  with  toil,  his  wrists  sore 
with  fetters,  stood  forth,  once  for  all  time,  with  a 
courage  incomparable.  In  the  book  which  des- 
troyed the  Bourbons,  Rousseau  said  that  man  is 
born  free  but  is  everywhere  in  chains.  Paul  was 
that  man  in  chains,  twice  born  free.  By  a  sudden 
and  supreme  inspiration,  he  challenged  his  fate. 
He  claimed  his  social  contract.  Here  was  no  local 
issue.  Injustice  to  one  man,  however  humble, 
poor  and  friendless,  is  an  offense  against  all  man- 
kind. No  one  nation  can  determine  such  an  issue. 
No  one  religion  can  pronounce  judgment  upon  it. 
Every  faith,  every  people,  every  class  and  every 
colour  must  be  united  on  that  jury.  Caesar — the 
international  authority — is  the  one  judge.  At 
Caesar's  judgment  seat,  where  leagues  of  nations 
gather,  appears  for  the  future  any  man  who  is 
wronged.  /  appeal  unto  Caesar,  cried  Paul.  We 
appeal  unto  Humanity — echo  the  voices  of  chattel 
slaves  and  wage  slaves  and  drug  slaves  and  drink 
slaves — of  serfs  on  the  feudal  estate,  of  the  ex- 


THE  FIGHT  FOR  FESTUS  295 

ploited  native,  the  misrepresented  idealist.  Hu- 
manity!— Caesar! — unto  Caesar  shalt  thou  go!  So  an- 
swered Festus — so  was  Paul  sent.  And  with  what 
result?  The  verdict  of  Humanity — what  was  it? 
Was  Humanity  humane?  Was  Humanity  merci- 
ful? Are  Leagues  of  Nations  to  be  engines  of  des- 
potism, holy  alliances  against  liberty,  or  are  they 
to  be  the  vindicators  of  social  justice?  The  Hu- 
manity of  Rome  cut  off  Paul's  head  and  crucified 
Peter. 

Humanity — what  a  noble  word  it  sometimes 
seems  to  be !  What  sympathy  from  one  to  an- 
other! What  a  fellow-feeling  to  pass  like  a  thrill 
through  the  ranks!  From  this  narrative  of  Paul's 
appeal  unto  Csesar,  the  stern  truth  must  be  drawn 
that  Humanity — the  impulse  whether  of  mob  or 
Emperor — is  to  be  judged  precisely  according  to 
the  obedience  which  Humanity  renders  unto  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

In  the  book  which  led  up  to  the  French  Revolu- 
tion,— the  Social  Contract — Jean  Jaques  Rousseau 
declared  that  man  is  born  free  but  is  everywhere  in 
chains.  It  was  a  sentence  that  shattered  a  dy- 
nasty; Paul  before  Festus  was  this  enchained  Man- 
hood. Yet  in  his  very  appeal  unto  Caesar  he  sealed 
his  own  fate.  //  this  man  had  not  appealed  unto 
Caesar,  said  Agrippa  and  Festus,  the  one  to  another, 
he  might  have  been  set  at  liberty.  I  do  not  suggest 
that  the  appeal  was  v^rrong;  it  was  obvious.  But  it 
was  Paul's  own  act  and  human  acts  often  forestall 
divine  miracles. 


XXXIV 
PAUL  BEFORE  AGRIPPA 

THE  appearance  of  Paul  the  apostle  before 
King  Agrippa  has  been  regarded  always  as 
the  culminating  scene  in  his  life  as  accurately 
known  to  us.  Strictly  speaking,  the  occasion  was 
an  interlude  in  the  main  drama  which  began  at 
Jerusalem,  the  city  of  religion,  and  could  only  end 
at  Rome,  the  city  of  force.  The  hearing  of  Paul's 
cause  by  Agrippa  is  thus  precisely  parallel  to  the 
so-called  trial  of  Jesus  by  Herod  Antipas  which  in 
no  way  advanced  the  verdict  that  was  to  decide  His 
fate.  In  both  cases,  the  real  political  power  thought 
that  royalty  might  find  a  safe  amusement  in  the 
fettered  gospel. 

Here  was  exhibited  for  all  men  to  see  the  con- 
trast between  the  glory  of  an  earthly  throne  and 
the  spiritual  splendours  of  God's  kingdom  in  the 
heart  of  man.  Not  one  of  those  monarchies  which 
have  vanished  from  the  map  of  Europe  displayed  a 
more  brilliant  aspect  than  that  great  pomp  which 
surrounded  Agrippa,  the  last  king  to  reign  in  the 
Holy  Land.  The  chief  captains  were  ranged 
around  him.  High  officials  thronged  his  sacred 
person.  And  at  his  side  sat  Berenice,  with  her 
gorgeous  bevy  of  ladies  in  waiting.  It  was  the 
spectacle  that  has  dazzled  nations  for  centuries — 

296 


PAUL  BEFOEE  AGRIPPA  297 

the  utmost  glitter  on  the  surface — whatever  may 
lurk  beneath. 

If  John  the  Baptist  had  confronted  KingAgrippa, 
what  indictment  he  would  have  thundered  into  the 
air!  Your  father,  he  would  have  said,  murdered  a 
holy  man  called  James,  merely  to  please  the  mob, 
and  claiming  to  be  God,  died  miserably  of  worms. 
Your  aunt,  Herodias,  wickedly  married  her  uncle, 
Philip,  and  then,  as  if  that  was  not  enough,  trans- 
ferred her  guilty  affection  to  his  brother,  Antipas, 
ruining  his  legal  marriage  with  the  daughter  of 
Aretas,  King  of  Damascus,  and  so  provoking  a 
bloody  war  in  which  thousands  of  innocent  people 
were  killed,  injured,  or  plundered.  Your  cousin 
Salome  degraded  the  art  of  dancing  by  her  lascivi- 
ous excesses  whereby  she  secured  the  murder  of  the 
one  prophet  who  stood  firmly  for  decency  in  public 
life,  and  she  married  her  uncle.  That  woman, 
Berenice,  sitting  beside  you,  with  dark  rumours 
surrounding  her  character  and  yours,  is  actually 
your  sister  and  your  influence  over  her  is  such  that 
she  will  become  the  degraded  courtesan  of  two  suc- 
ceeding Roman  Emperors — Vespasian  and  Titus. 
You  have  another  sister,  Drusilla,  a  "Jewess," 
married  to  Felix,  a  pagan,  who  when  his  soul  lay 
in  the  balance  between  God  and  nothing,  persuaded 
him  to  leave  Paul  still  bound  and  a  prisoner.  The 
founder  of  your  dynasty  was  husband  of  ten  wives. 
He  brutally  murdered  Mariamne,  your  great-grand- 
mother. At  his  hand,  your  grandfather,  Aristobu- 
lus,  was  done  to  death  while  his  brother  Alexander 
and  his  half-brother,  Antipater,  shared  the  same 
grim  fate.  Your  great-granduncle,  also  called  Aris- 
tobulus,  was  high  priest  in  the  Temple  of  Jehovah, 


298     THE  CHUUCH  WE  FOKGET 

but  even  he  was  slain  by  the  monster  of  iniquity 
whose  sceptre  you  wield.  Aristobulus  and  Mari- 
amne  had  an  aged  grandfather,  Hyrcanus,  of 
priestly  status,  but  he  also  perished.  Your  ances- 
tor, Herod,  massacred  the  entire  Sanhedrin  save 
two  and  slaughtered  the  babes  of  Bethlehem,  save 
One.  And  here  are  you,  Agrippa  the  King,  with 
the  curses  of  millions  upon  your  crown  and  your 
conscience,  daring  the  wrath  of  God  and  man  by 
presuming  a  judgment  on  a  Christian  missionary, 
the  latchet  of  whose  shoes  your  perfumed  and 
vicious  fingers  are  unworthy  to  unloose !  So  would 
have  spoken  the  ancient  prophets  of  Sinaitic  justice. 

In  the  narrative  of  Luke  there  is  no  hint  of  the 
scandalous  depravity  which  was  so  soon  to  over- 
whelm the  Asmonean  Dynasty  in  an  ignominious 
doom.  The  pageantry  of  that  rotten  and  reeking 
court  is  accepted  and  even  admired  at  its  nominal 
value.  It  is  only  by  a  chance  remark  that  we  learn 
of  the  heartless  contempt  which  kept  Paul  bound 
with  chains,  even  when  he  was  making  his  defense. 
Many  a  satirist  of  that  cynical  era  was  exposing 
the  scandals  of  the  Herodian  family,  but  Paul's  was 
another  task.  He  did  not  summon  the  volcano 
which  was  so  soon  to  overwhelm  Pompeii  and  in 
Pompeii  the  wretched  princess  Drusilla.  Any 
journalist  who  knows  his  profession  can  thus  ex- 
pose the  seamy  side  of  high  society.  Paul,  as 
apostle,  presented  the  Alternative.  He  would  over- 
come evil  with  good.  He  spoke  to  Agrippa  with  a 
gentle  affection  which  avoided  every  suggestion  of 
a  taunt. 

This  restraint  is  the  more  astonishing  because, 
throughout  Paul's  career,  he  cultivated  the  historic 


PAUL  BEFOEE  AGPJPPA  299 

sense  of  which  he  was  never  more  conscious  than 
on  this  day  when  he  counted  himself  happy  because 
King  Agrippa  was  an  expert  in  all  questions  and 
customs  concerning  the  Jews.  For  here,  at  Caes- 
area,  was  enacted  the  closing  scene  of  that  heredi- 
tary feud  which  broke  the  hearts  of  Isaac  and  Re- 
becca, who  saw  the  bitter  quarrel  between  Jacob 
and  Esau;  Israel  and  Edom;  Jesus  and  Herod — the 
Spiritual  and  the  Material  in  human  life — God  and 
Mammon.  Paul  was  a  Pharisee,  appearing  before 
a  Herodian  tribunal.  It  was  as  if  a  French  priest 
were  to  answer  for  himself  before  a  Lutheran  and 
a  Prussian.  No  one  who  has  read  the  epistle  to 
the  Galatians  with  its  elaborate  references  to  Sarah 
and  Hagar — Isaac  and  Ishmael, — can  doubt  what 
Paul's  personal  sentiments  must  have  been  towards 
Agrippa.  But  it  was  his  hope  that  all  men  would 
be  one  in  Christ  Jesus.  He  would  know  neither 
barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  nor  free.  He  would  ad- 
dress Agrippa  as  he  had  addressed  his  own  people, 
giving  to  each  exactly  the  same  testimony. 

For  a  long  life  of  varied  experience  had  con- 
vinced Paul  that  for  men  of  all  types,  rich  and  poor, 
respectable  and  immoral,  the  test  is  what  do  they 
think  of  Christ.  To  reveal  the  Christ  to  Agrippa 
and  to  Berenice,  his  unhappy  accomplice,  was 
Paul's  only  aim.  How  to  put  such  a  case,  in  cir- 
cumstances so  unusual,  would  have  been  a  perplex- 
ing problem,  if  Paul  had  not  followed  the  wise  rule 
of  trying  to  lead  others  along  the  selfsame  path 
which  he  himself  had  trod.  In  all  effective  preach- 
ing there  must  be  this ,  background  of  personal 
knowledge — not  so  much  an  argument  as  a  witness 
— a  record  of  vision — of  things  seen  with  the  eye 


300     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

and  heard  by  the  ear.  To  that  strange  company 
Paul's  tale  of  glorious  adventure  sounded  like  the 
story  of  some  traveller  who  had  discovered  another 
continent.  When  he  talked  about  repentance,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  minds  of  his  audience  were  indeed 
changed.  The  throne  of  Jerusalem,  which  Agrippa 
was  ascending,  and  all  the  purple  of  that  panoply 
which  hung  around  him,  insecurely  held  by  a  shad- 
owed network  of  intrigue,  faded  into  the  back- 
ground when  they  saw  in  the  way  a  light  from 
heaven  above  the  brightness  of  the  sun,  shining 
around  Paul  and  his  companions.  The  idea  that 
people  might  be  turned  from  the  power  of  Satan 
unto  God,  that  their  eyes  might  be  opened,  and 
that  their  inheritance  might  be  richer  than  a  king's, 
came  like  compelling  music  from  a  harp  unseen. 
Amid  dead  silence,  Paul  stretched  forth  his  hand  in 
invitation,  and  in  tones,  which  thrill  us  to  this  day, 
cont'muQd,W hereupon,  0  King  Agrippa,  I  zms  not  dis- 
obedient to  the  heavenly  vision.  How  he  went  on  his 
journeys,  preaching  to  small  and  great,  and  always 
putting  the  small  first  because  they  were  many 
while  the  great  were  few — he  told  it  all,  and  no  one 
interrupted  until  that  fatal  word — Gentiles.  And 
then  the  interruption  came  from  a  Gentile  himself. 
Paul,  cried  Festus,  thou  art  beside  thyself,  much  learn- 
ing hath  made  thee  mad.  How  ridiculous  this  notion 
that  common  folk,  rushing  hither  and  thither  on 
the  business  of  what  they  call  life,  would  worry  for 
five  minutes  over  the  resurrection!  It  was  mere 
pedantry,  dogma,  creed,  theory,  imagination,  a  de- 
lusion, monomania;  in  a  word,  the  fellow  was  in- 
sane— outside  the  range  of  practical  politics. 

The  interruption  of  Festus  thus  differed  widely 


PAUL  BEFORE  AGRIPPA  301 

from  the  clamour  of  the  Jews.  They  detested  the 
Christian  Cause  because  they  thought  that  it  might 
become  a  Gentile  affair.  But  Festus  scoffed  because 
he  was  a  Gentile  and  knew  how  few  of  his  kind 
would  submit  themselves  to  the  authority  of  a  risen 
Redeemer.  And  Festus  has  been  proved  right. 
To  this  day,  Christ  has  only  won  a  small  minority 
of  mankind.  Not  one-third  of  the  human  race  are 
yet  called  Christian.  Of  that  third,  a  mere  fraction 
observe  the  essentials  of  the  faith.  But  while  the 
calculations  of  Festus  could  not  be  gainsaid  by  any 
man  of  the  world,  Paul  was  able  on  his  side  to  main- 
tain that  he  spoke  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness. 
For  Agrippa  was  intensely  listening.  While  Fes- 
tus thought  only  of  the  multitude,  the  big  bat- 
talions, the  general  trend  of  events,  Agrippa  knew 
better.  And  so  did  Paul  remind  him.  In  very  truth, 
as  the  apostle  declared,  this  thing  zvas  not  done  in  a 
corner.  The  Herodians  knew  well  enough  all  about 
King  Aretas  of  Damascus — how  his  governor  had 
tried  to  seize  Paul.  They  remembered  the  stern 
witness  of  the  Baptist,  the  awful  silence  of  the 
Saviour,  and  the  grave  logic  of  Paul  as  he  reasoned 
before  Felix  and  Drusilla  of  righteousness,  temper- 
ance and  judgment  to  come.  And  they  realized 
clearly  enough  that  here  was  a  conflict  not  for  in- 
stitutions and  majorities  but  for  the  soul. 

For  in  this  fated  family  of  Herod  there  was  a 
curious  and  haunting  perception  of  spiritual  des- 
tiny. In  the  hinterland  of  their  lives  there  lurked 
an  uneasy  conscience  across  which  flitted  ghosts  of 
the  goodness  they  had  flouted.  They  liked  to  build 
the  Temple — to  enrich  the  Church — to  appoint  the 
bishops  and  priests — to  attend  the  services.     But 


302  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

they  also  patronized  the  race-course,  the  fashion- 
able banquets,  the  gladiatorial  games.  They  were 
luxurious  and  extravagant  without  being  sceptical. 
Like  the  devils,  they  believed  the  prophets  and  they 
trembled.  Of  this  breed  was  Lorenzo  the  Mag- 
nificent— Louis  the  Fourteenth — Henry  the  Eighth 
— and  some  multi-millionaires  who  live  as  mon- 
archs.  In  so7ne  zvays,  said  Agrippa,  thou  persuadest 
me  to  be  a  Christian. 

It  was  what  wealth  and  power  said  to  Wesley 
and  Moody.  It  was  what  birth  and  fashion  said  to 
Ruskin  and  Tolstoy.  We  like  the  magic  and  the 
beauty  of  ideals.  But  of  this  Herod,  be  it  remem- 
bered that  he  still  sat  on  his  throne  and  Berenice 
sat  at  his  side. 

Agrippa  was  half  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian, 
but  all  that  pomp  and  circumstance  did  not  per- 
suade Paul,  even  one  inch,  that  he  would  be  happier 
as  a  king.  His  rejoinder  made  that  plain.  /  would 
to  God,  he  said,  that  not  only  thou  hut  also  all  that  hear 
me  this  day  zvcre  both  almost  and  altogether  such  as  I  am 
— except  these  bonds.  We  can  see  the  hand  out- 
stretched in  invitation.  We  can  hear  the  sound  of 
the  links  as  they  clinked  with  the^  man's  every 
movement.  And  we  can  weigh  up  his  appeal  in  its 
deep  significance — redemption  even  for  despots  and 
tyrants  but  redemption  for  them  on  terms  of  accu- 
rate equality  with  all  whom  they  have  misgoverned. 
The  kings  may  be  saved,  but  the  thrones  must  be 
levelled. 

Except  these  bonds!  And  they  did  not  remove 
them.  There  was  about  Paul  a  delicate  and  sen- 
sible courtesy  that  still  captivates  those  who  study 
his  conduct — a  rich  vein  of  humour,  springing  from 


PAUL  BEFORE  AGRIPPA  303 

inward  happiness — a  cheery  sportsmanship  which 
enUvened  the  saddest  atmosphere.  Yet  his  very 
badinage  was  inspired.  As  a  disciple  of  Christ,  he 
demanded  the  same  Hberty  to  do  good  which  the 
devil  has  to  do  evil.  He  did  not  hold  the  view  that 
all  the  rights  should  be  on  the  side  of  wrong  and  all 
the  wrongs  on  the  side  of  right.  He  wanted  men 
to  be  in  bondage  to  no  one  save  Our  Lord  Himself. 
Not  one  further  word  was  uttered  on  either  side. 
For  it  was  evident  to  Agrippa,  that,  as  king,  he  was 
part  of  a  system.  Suddenly,  we  are  again  con- 
scious, as  we  read  the  narrative,  of  Festus  the  gov- 
ernor, of  the  chief  captains  and  officials,  and — most 
pathetic  of  all — of  Berenice.  For  an  instant,  her 
fate  had  hung  in  the  balance.  No  woman  in  her 
position  cares  to  see  her  king  moody  and  remorse- 
ful. However,  the  peril  soon  passed.  Herod  rose. 
So  did  Festus  the  governor  and  the  courtiers. 
They  formed  the  usual  procession  and  in  that  pro- 
cession Berenice  retained  her  usual  place.  Sol- 
emnly these  majestic  personages  paced  the  hall,  till 
like  shadows  they  vanished.  It  was  a  mirthless 
ceremonial — a  joyless  pageant.  Slow  and  solemn 
were  their  footsteps  as  they  departed;  they  had 
touched  life  and  joy  and  peace,  but  they  preferred 
death.  And  theirs  was  the  etiquette  of  a  funeral — 
the  gravity  and  the  mournful  demeanour  with 
which  all  men  descend  to  the  tomb  that  awaits 
them.  Of  that  whole  proud  company,  Paul  alone 
now  matters. 


xxxv 

THE   VOYAGE 

IN  reading  Luke's  vivacious  account  of  Paul's  ad- 
ventures on  his  voyage  to  Italy,  what  I  like 
especially  is  the  fact  that  this  apostle,  with  the  care 
of  all  the  Churches  on  his  shoulders,  and  his  mind 
cram  full  of  ecclesiastical  problems,  was  such  an 
excellent  fellow,  as  we  say  "  to  go  tiger  hunting 
with."  Those  were  days  when  ships  were  not  very 
comfortable  and  these,  in  which  Paul  sailed,  were 
convict  ships,  filled  with  wretched  prisoners,  torn 
from  friends  and  home,  and  with  the  soldiers  who 
guarded  them.  Paul  himself  had  every  reason  to 
feel  lonely.  His  sister  at  Jerusalem  had  not  trou- 
bled to  bid  him  good-bye.  The  saints  in  that  city 
did  not  gather  for  a  farewell  on  the  quay.  Only 
Luke  was  with  him  and  Aristarchus,  for  whom,  at 
Ephesus,  the  apostle  in  the  tumult  had  risked  his 
life.     It  was,  indeed,  a  forlorn  little  company. 

Yet  within  twenty-four  hours,  Paul's  cheery  en- 
joyment of  foreign  travel,  his  ready  adaptability  to 
unpleasant  circumstances,  had  won  the  afifection  of 
Julius  the  centurion  in  charge,  an  ofilicer  of  Augus- 
tus' band,  or  as  we  should  put  it  of  the  Grenadier  or- 
Coldstream  Guards.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  restore 
the  apostle's  parole  and,  at  Sidon,  Paul  visited  the 
Christians,  so  refreshing  himself.  He  did  not  trou- 
ble to  preach  or  to  expound.     It  was  just  a  friendly 

304 


THE  VOYAGE  305 

call  in  which  he  allowed  his  own  happiness  to  tell 
its  tale,  and  with  the  zest  of  a  schoolboy,  on  his  first 
trip  to  a  great  city,  the  apostle  resumed  his  voyage. 

With  Luke,  he  discussed  the  weather  and  the 
day's  run,  and  what  the  wind  would  be.  They  had 
hoped  to  coast  along  Asia  Minor, — possibly  to 
touch  at  Tarsus — but  they  were  driven  south  and 
passed  close  to  Cyprus,  finally  landing  at  Myra,  a 
city  of  Lycia.  This  seaport  is  only  mentioned  in 
this  one  verse  of  the  Bible,  and  I  do  not  know  that 
any  soul  has  been  saved  because  Paul  was  inter- 
ested in  Myra.  But  even  Myra  has  fulfilled  her 
destiny  if  she  teaches  us  that  great  and  holy  men 
need  not  live  aloof  from  the  common  affairs  of  hu- 
man existence — that  they  are  capable  of  customary 
small  talk — and  keenly  enjoy  sightseeing. 

At  Myra,  they  changed  cabins — taking  berths  in 
a  new  ocean  liner.  Like  true  tourists,  they  asked 
all  about  both  these  vessels.  The  first  came  from 
Adramyttium,  whither  doubtless  she  was  return- 
ing, and  as  Adramyttium  lies  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Dardanelles,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  centurion 
who  was  bound  for  Rome  not  the  vEgean,  sought 
another  vessel,  possibly  a  wheat-ship,  which  was 
sailing  from  Alexandria  to  the  capital.  They  set 
forth  again,  therefore,  under  a  new  captain  with 
whom  Paul,  pretty  experienced  by  now  in  the 
moods  of  the  eastern  Mediterranean,  soon  had 
some  lively  arguments.  From  the  outset,  sailing 
was  slow.  Clinging  to  the  coast,  they  passed  the 
island  of  Cnidus,  and  this  with  difficulty,  despite  the 
shelter,  and  it  took  them  many  days  to  reach  Crete, 
a  distance  of  under  two  hundred  miles.  If  many 
days  meant  a  week  this  was  a  net  navigation  of  only 


306  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

a  mile  or  two  an  hour  and  there  is  a  certain  delight- 
ful romance  in  the  picture  of  this  little  cockleshell 
of  a  boat,  drifting  hither  and  thither  as  the  wind 
veered  from  one  point  to  another  point  of  the  com- 
pass, as  if  no  one  cared  what  happened  to  such  an 
infinitesimal  fragment  of  wood  and  canvas,  while  be- 
hind the  bulwarks  breathed  the  noblest  and  great- 
est of  men  then  living.  Some  leaders,  conscious  of 
failing  years,  might  have  become  impatient  over 
the  delays,  first  of  the  law  and  then  of  the  barom- 
eter. But  Paul  had  learnt  to  regard  all  these 
things  with  content  of  mind,  because  he  was  able, 
by  such  chances,  to  show  in  fresh  ways  what  help 
comes  from  God's  grace.  He  knew  that  his  time 
spent  at  sea  was  worth  while.  Christ  also  had 
spent  much  time  at  sea.  Wherever  in  this  world 
of  industry  men  and  women  have  to  rough  it,  be  it 
on  land  or  water,  in  schooner  or  lumber  camp, 
there  must  the  love  of  Our  Lord  be  brought  home 
by  His  disciples.  As  Christ  was  Carpenter  and 
Fisherman,  so  was  Paul  a  tent-maker  and  an  emi- 
grant. 

At  last  they  found  anchorage  at  Lasea,  in  Crete, 
where  was  a  harbour  called  "  the  Fair  Havens."  It 
was  now  October  and  winter  was  setting  in.  It  is 
curious  that  Luke  still  reckoned  the  date  by  "  the 
fast  " — the  great  day  of  atonement,  and  one  can 
imagine  how  they  thought  of  the  Temple, — its 
gorgeous  and  ancient  ceremonial — and  the  high 
priest,  by  whose  order  Paul  had  been  struck  in  the 
mouth,  entering  through  the  veil,  just  rent  in  twain, 
— entering  the  Holy  of  Holies.  Whoever  wrote 
the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  no  reasonable  person 
has  denied  that  it  embodies  much  of  Paul's  thought. 


THE  VOYAGE  307 

To  Jerusalem,  he  had  said  good-bye  forever.  Con- 
sulting with  Luke  about  Our  Lord's  prophecies,  he 
knew  that  Jerusalem  must  be  swept  away.  So 
swept  away  were  other  temples, — Ephesus,  for  in- 
stance. But,  at  Ephesus,  Paganism  produced  no 
Paul  to  perpetuate  her  worship  forever  as  the  type 
and  shadow  of  eternal  reality. 

This  ship  bound  for  Rome  had  been  comman- 
deered by  Julius  the  centurion,  who  therefore  could 
decide  whether  she  was  able  safely  to  proceed  on 
her  course.  Paul  did  not  hesitate  to  give  his 
opinion.  He  held  that  the  vessel  and  cargo  would 
be  lost  and  lives  endangered  if  the  winter  were 
risked.  Neither  the  captain  nor  the  centurion  re- 
sented the  admonition — they  liked  its  outspoken 
advice.  But  they  thought  that  they  knew  better. 
The  captain  was  also  ship-owner.  He  wanted  his 
profit  on  the  lading.  He  was  ready  for  a  gamble. 
Nor  was  he  deterred  by  the  peril  to  other  lives  than 
his  own.  He  was  an  employer  who  neglected 
safety  appliances.  He  had  no  life-belts  and  only 
one  life-boat  on  board.  His  motive  was  commerce 
and  where  the  telescope  pointed  to  prudence,  to  the 
fear  of  God,  which  is  the  beginning  even  of  indus- 
trial wisdom,  he  applied  his  blind  eye. 

Crew  and  passengers  joined  in  the  discussion. 
You  had  the  united  wisdom  of  a  soldier's  and  work- 
man's council.  The  ship  was  governed  with  the 
sagacity  of  a  Soviet  and,  against  Paul,  there  was  a 
clear  majority.  What  they  felt  was  that  Lasea  was 
an  unpleasant  place  in  which  to  winter.  Amenities 
were  lacking.  If  only  they  could  sail  as  far  as 
Phcenice,  without  tempting  the  open  sea,  they 
would  have  a  much  better  time.     It  was  not  a  great 


308     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

distance  away.  At  this  compromise,  captain  and 
crew  arrived — labour  and  capital  thus  avoided  a 
mutiny — and  the  only  thing  omitted  from  calcula- 
tion was  the  wisdom  of  Christ.  That  they  dis- 
counted. They  did  not  believe  that  He  had  ever 
ruled  the  winds  and  the  waves.  They  ignored  His 
miracles.  And  it  did  not  occur  to  them  that  they 
were  heading  straight  for  a  collapse  of  society. 
What  Paul  realized  was  that  the  happiness  of  these 
men  depended,  not  upon  a  new  harbour  around 
them,  but  upon  a  new  spirit  within  them. 

For  the  trouble  was  that  they  never  reached 
Phoenice.  They  left  the  old  harbour — broke  up 
the  old  regime — but  could  not  make  a  new  one. 
The  ship  was  full  of  Bolshevists  who  asked  in  vain 
for  socialism — of  Protectionists  who  wanted  higher 
tariffs — of  Free  Traders  who  wanted  no  tariffs  at 
all — while  the  one  man  who  relished  life  as  it  was 
happened  to  be  Paul,  a  Christian.  He  had  no  wish 
to  spend  his  whole  life  in  "  the  Fair  Havens  "  near 
Lasea.  He  was  no  static  thinker — no  mid-Victo- 
rian, reclining  on  antimacassars.  But  he  had  that 
in  him  which  lifted  him  clean  above  environment 
and  helped  him  to  make  life  worth  while  under 
whatever  system  he  laboured. 

They  loosed  from  Lasea.  They  clung  to  Crete. 
The  south  wind  blew  softly.  Men's  opinions  were 
reasonably  uttered — reform  was  to  be  gradual  and 
cautious — politics  were  to  be  placid — when  sud- 
denly these  statesmen  of  a  Mediterranean  rowing 
boat  discovered  that  theirs  was  not  the  whole  world 
— not  even  an  important  part  of  it — for  beyond 
their  mental  horizon  there  were  climatic  depres- 
sions, stirrings  of  violent  tempest,  the  distant  birth 


THE  VOYAGE  309 

of  a  hurricane  called  Euroclydon,  or  tornado. 
What  you  and  I  are  thinking  is  important.  But 
the  real  question  is  what  the  Chinaman  and  the 
Hindu  and  the  Negro  are  thinking — what  the  Rus- 
sians are  thinking  and  the  vast  underworld  of  voice- 
less industry.  On  that  ship,  with  its  society  of 
souls,  descended  the  tempestuous  wind.  A  few 
tried  to  resist  the  upheaval,  but  resistance  was  soon 
found  to  be  vain.  Before  so  fierce  "  a  tendency," 
they  had  to  let  her  drive — fling  concessions  to  all 
who  demanded  them,  and  trust  to  luck.  Naviga- 
tion was  as  helpless  as  national  policy  when  revolu- 
tion is  afoot  and  it  was  a  mere  chance  that  brought 
them  under  the  shelter  of  Clauda,  a  little  island, 
useless  as  a  refuge,  because  of  quicksands  and  an 
exposed  situation.  Then  was  it  that  they  made  a 
last  attempt  to  save  the  vessel.  They  bound  her 
up  with  ropes.  They  strake  sail.  All  the  glory  of 
seamanship  was  abandoned.  It  was  as  if  some 
ancient  tyranny,  threatened  with  rebellion,  abol- 
ished its  pomps,  cut  down  its  imperial  ambitions, 
abridged  its  expenditure,  and  endeavoured  thus  to 
face  the  storm.  But  that  was  not  enough.  Next 
day,  the  cargo  had  to  be  thrown  overboard.  Men 
sold  their  estates  or  left  them  derelict.  Million- 
aires submitted  to  crushing  taxation.  Pictures  and 
jewelry  were  sold  at  auction.  The  very  tackling  of 
the  vessel, — the  instruments  of  manufacture  and 
transport — were  sacrificed.  With  their  own  hands, 
the  workers  cast  out  unconsecrated  plant.  Invest- 
ments became  worthless.  Exchange  declined. 
Credit  was  destroyed  and  Euroclydon  continued. 

Men  looked  vainly  for  the  moon  or  the  stars  to 
guide  them.     But  for  many  days  the  sky  was  ob- 


310     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

scured  by  the  driving  clouds.  Amid  the  passions 
of  that  cyclone  no  fixed  principle  was  discernible — 
nothing  by  which  society  could  be  safely  steered. 
Gradually  there  spread  over  the  ship's  company  a 
terrible  pessimism.  None  of  us,  they  thought,  is 
likely  to  be  saved.  Hunger  settled  upon  them  and 
with  hunger  came  gaunt  despair.  And  during  this 
fearful  strain  and  stress,  Paul  proved  to  be  an  excel- 
lent sailor.  Others  might  refuse  to  eat,  but  he  re- 
tained his  appetite.  Others  might  lose  their  sleep, 
but  he  had  pleasant  dreams  and  awoke  in  cheerful 
spirits.  After  a  fortnight  of  it,  he  was  the  only 
man  of  them  all  who  was  good  for  anything.  Any 
college  would  have  welcomed  him.  In  any  club 
he  would  have  been  a  favourite.  And,  however 
fierce  the  storm,  there  was  nothing  in  his  cargo  that 
he  had  to  throw  overboard. 

Between  Paul  the  apostle  and  Jonah  the  prophet 
there  may  be  drawn,  perhaps,  an  interesting  con- 
trast. Both  men  knew  God  and  desired  to  serve 
Him.  Both  men  were  sent  as  missionaries  to  a 
mighty  city,  governed  by  a  great  emperor.  Both 
men  went  to  sea.  Amid  the  tempest,  both  men 
slept.  Born  of  the  same  race,  professing  the  same 
creed,  where  these  men  differed  was  in  their  conse- 
cration, their  obedience.  If  Paul  had  been  asked 
what  is  thine  occupation?  and  zvhcnce  earnest  thoiif  zvhat 
is  thy  country?  and  of  what  people  art  thou?  he  would 
have  had  no  difficulty  in  making  answer.  Every 
one  around  him  knew  that  he  was  in  precisely  the 
place  that  he  ought  to  be,  and  every  one  around 
Jonah  knew  the  exact  opposite.  With  the  world  in 
upheaval,  where  are  the  disciples  of  Christ  to-day? 
Are  they  fleeing  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  or 


THE  VOYAGE  311 

do  they  meet  the  angel  of  God,  whose  they  are 
and  whom  they  ought  to  serve?  Jonah  was  thrown 
overboard.  The  sailors,  like  the  politicians,  dis- 
established his  church.  To  them  it  was  an  actual 
addition  to  peril,  an  aggravation  of  feudal  owner- 
ship, a  hated  citadel  of  privilege  and  sloth.  But 
Paul  could  stand  forth  boldly  in  the  midst  of  them 
and  receive  a  welcome  hearing. 

When  Peter  was  in  a  boat  and  the  weather  was 
rough,  he  thought  that  he  must  walk  on  the  water 
or  even  plunge  therein  headlong,  if  he  would  reach 
the  Master.  On  seeing  the  Saviour  in  the  distance, 
he  must,  as  it  were,  escape  from  his  circumstances 
somehow,  whether  by  miracle  or  by  management. 
Get  out  of  this  business,  he  would  say,  and  Christ  is 
possible.  Paul  had  learnt  better  than  that.  Rats 
might  desert  a  sinking  ship,  but  not  he.  It  was  in 
the  ship  that  Christ  spoke  to  him.  It  was  amid 
the  howling  of  the  hurricane  that  he  understood 
most  clearly  what  he  had  been  taught  by  Isaiah — 
But  nozv  tints  saith  the  Lord  that  created  thee,  0  Jacob, 
and  he  that  formed  thee,  0  Israel,  Fear  not;  for  I  hare 
redeemed  thee,  I  have  called  thee  by  thy  name;  thou  art 
mine.  When  thou  passest  through  the  zvaters,  I  zvill  be 
with  thee;  and  through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overUozv 
thee;  zvhen  thou  zvalkest  through  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not  be 
burned;  neither  shall  the  flame  kindle  upon  thee.  The 
angel,  who  spoke  to  him,  had  to  teach  no  new 
lesson.  His  message  was  what  children  call  re- 
capitulation. The  background  of  the  whole  busi- 
ness was  Paul's  solid  knowledge  of  and  reverence 
for  the  Old  Testament.  I  believe  God,  he  said,  that 
it  shall  be  even  as  it  was  told  me. 

For  let  us  make  no  mistake — it  was  not  to  the 


312  THE  CHURCH  WE  FOUGET 

centurion,  as  representing  the  state,  not  to  the  cap- 
tain of  the  ship,  as  representing  commerce,  that 
the  Almighty  committed  at  this  time  the  secret  of 
social  safety.  While  they  were  thinking  only  of 
the  ship, — her  sails  and  her  cargo,  the  soundings 
and  the  anchors, — the  system  by  which  communi- 
ties must  be  piloted  into  harbour, — Paul  knew  that 
the  ship  was  lost,  that  property  must  inevitably 
disappear  in  the  upheaval,  and  what  he  thought 
about  therefore  was  the  men  and  women  them- 
selves, their  character,  their  ability  cheerfully  to 
work  and  suffer  for  one  another,  and  their  physique. 
If  Paul  had  been  a  Jacobin  or  a  Bolshevist,  he 
would  have  started  at  once  a  mutiny  against  the 
captain  of  the  ship  and  the  centurion.  Instead  of 
that  he  insisted  that  the  crew  and  passengers  should 
remain  in  the  ship, — that  they  should  make  every 
possible  use  of  existing  conditions  until  these  con- 
ditions collapsed  of  themselves — w^hen  probably 
they  would  find  an  island  near  by,  a  new  era  ready 
for  them,  whither  some  of  them  could  swim  by 
their  own  efforts,  and  others,  with  the  help  of 
boards  and  broken  pieces  of  the  vessel.  It  was 
Paul's  close  study  of  the  way  in  which  Christ  used 
the  laws  and  customs  of  Moses  as  helps  whereby 
men  might  find  His  grace  and  atonement,  which 
gave  him  the  practical  wisdom  that  resulted  in  all 
on  this  ship  being  saved. 

For  Christ  was  eternal.  He  measured  the  value 
both  of  the  old  and  of  the  new.  He  did  not  desert 
the  old  or  destroy  it.  He  fulfilled  the  old,  made  the 
utmost  use  of  whatever  in  the  old  was  still  useful. 
At  His  feast,  there  was  no  broken  crumb  of  the 
living  bread,  however  stale,  that  was  allowed  to  be 


THE  VOYAGE  313 

wasted.  Here  on  this  storm-tossed  ship  was  a 
boat.  That  boat  meant  severance  from  the  main 
vessel.  It  meant  the  salvation  of  one  class,  the 
sailors,  who  crowded  into  it.  They  thought  that 
such  safety  by  selfishness  was  possible.  Paul  told 
them  the  opposite.  No  class,  not  even  miners  or 
railwaymen,  has  ever  been  saved  except  by  remain- 
ing loyal  to  the  community.  There  is  no  redemp- 
tion or  uplift  for  anybody  which  does  not  include 
everybody.  There  is  no  divine  love,  except  for  the 
whole  world. 

Paul  was  the  accused  prisoner,  bound  for  crim- 
inal judgment,  yet  here  he  was  in  command  of  the 
vessel.  Character  is,  after  all,  what  tells  in  public 
life.  Slowly  but  surely  they  had  to  recognize  his 
authority.  At  first,  when  he  told  them  to  be  of 
good  cheer,  they  busied  themselves  over  the  sound- 
ings, got  into  a  panic  as  they  heard  the  surf  beat- 
ing on  the  rocks,  and  cried  out  uselessly  for  the 
day.  To  Paul,  as  to  Christ,  the  night  was  as  glori- 
ously illuminated  with  the  presence  of  God  as  the 
most  brilliant  sunshine,  and  he  was  ready,  there- 
fore, courageously  to  anticipate  the  dawn.  For 
around  him  a  reign  of  terror  was  setting  in.  While 
the  sailors  had  thought  of  abandoning  the  women 
and  children,  the  soldiers  muttered  that  the  prison- 
ers must  be  massacred  lest  they  escape.  Paul 
calmly  assured  them  all  that,  however  violent  the 
anarchy,  not  one  hair  on  any  head  need  be  injured. 
It  is  the  passion  of  man,  not  the  providence  of  God, 
that  fills  the  streets  with  machine  guns  at  one  end, 
mutilating  mobs  at  the  other.  For  these  sorrows 
there  is  no  elemental  necessity. 

The    ship    was    tossing    about.      Wind    roared 


314  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

through  her  rent  rigging.  The  ropes  that  under- 
girded  her  sides  strained  and  stressed  as  she  was 
buffeted.  But  Paul  did  the  simplest  deed  imagi- 
nable by  man.  He  took  a  loaf  of  bread.  Centurion 
and  captain  and  crew  and  convicts  had  not  under- 
stood for  one  instant  that  the  source  of  their 
tremors  was  largely  malnutrition.  It  is,  probably, 
l^a  fact  that  no  country  has  ever  been  visited  by 
]  revolution  in  which  the  people  have  eaten  what 
doctors  regard  as  sufficient  food.  Not  elaborate 
food,  but  sufficient — bread — the  loaf — shared  by 
all.  In  that  vessel  there  was  ample  food.  Yet 
the  people  were  starving.  They  were  not  taught 
how  to  eat  properly  and  in  a  manner  that  makes 
for  health.  Paul  had  himself  to  show  them — two 
hundred,  threescore  and  sixteen  souls.  In  that 
united  sacrament,  all  distinctions  were  obliterated. 
Accuser  and  accused,  escort  and  prisoners,  captain 
and  crew,  were  reduced  to  one  spiritual  common- 
wealth. 

For  Paul  gave  thanks.  Amid  those  dangers  and 
discomforts  he  was  grateful.  With  the  tempest 
howling  around  him,  he  was  still  in  a  Father's 
home.  Accompanied  by  heathen,  his  breakfast 
was  a  sacrament.  His  policy  was  not  to  govern 
but  to  inspire,  not  to  command  but  to  consecrate, 
and,  at  his  word,  with  the  ship  actually  breaking  up 
and  perils  increasing,  they  were  yet  of  good  cheer. 
They  ate  enough.  And  what  could  not  be  eaten 
they  threw  overboard.  A  clear  line  was  drawn  be- 
tween wheat  for  food  and  wheat  for  profit.  Of  the 
latter  the  ship  was  lightened. 

So  did  they  spend  the  long  hours  of  darkness. 
At  last  the  day  dawned.     They  knew  not  what  was 


THE  VOYAGE  315 

the  land  but  they  were  ready  for  any  little  creek. 
All  they  could  do  was  loose  the  rudder-bands,  let 
the  ship  steer  herself,  hoist  the  mainsail,  and  trust 
to  the  good  care  of  the  Almighty.  In  that  dreadful 
predicament  there  was  now  a  certain  confidence 
among  them  all.  Discipline  was  restored  and  the 
centurion,  who  had  learnt  Paul's  value,  would  not 
allow  the  prisoners  to  be  killed.  A  startling  social 
transition  was  impending.  But  it  was  manageable 
by  orderly  methods.  All  were  faithfully  to  do  their 
part.  Those  who  could  swim  must  swim.  The 
workers  must  not  throw  up  their  jobs.  But  for 
others  there  were  boards  and  broken  pieces  that 
still  floated.  Society  might  fall  apart  but  souls 
were  safe.     They  all  got  to  land. 

And  what  did  they  find?  Utopia?  A  social 
paradise?  Not  at  all.  Why,  said  they,  this  is  just 
Malta !  Some  of  them  doubtless  had  been  to  Malta 
many  times  before.  About  Malta  there  was  noth- 
ing revolutionary.  Indeed  it  was  raining  hard. 
The  weather  was  singularly  familiar.  It  was  also 
cold.  Both  barometer  and  thermometer  were  en- 
tirely indifferent  to  new  eras.  After  all  the 
tumults,  men  and  women  were  left,  as  usual,  with 
earth  beneath  and  sky  above. 

The  Maltese  were  barbarians — utterly  old-fash- 
ioned folk — who  had  read  none  of  the  latest  books, 
imbibed  none  of  the  cynicism  and  satire  of  modern 
novelists,  but  believed  still  in  reconstructing  society 
on  a  basis  of  personal  kindness.  Fire,  they  said, 
is  the  first  thing,  plenty  of  coal  and  wood — cheap 
coal — generously  hewed.  Their  idea  of  brother- 
hood meant  work,  mutual  service,  pity,  helpfulness. 
What  gave  them  this  idea  was  the  example  of  their 


316     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

chief  man,  Publius,  who  set  a  high  standard  of 
hospitality,  showing  how  much  of  the  success  of  the 
commonwealth  depends  upon  the  conduct  of  a 
president  or  a  prime  minister.  In  Malta  the  feudal 
system  was  at  its  best,  and  the  courtesy  of  these 
simple  folk,  their  delight  at  receiving  strangers,  the 
attentions  with  which  they  loaded  their  guests,  all 
showed  that  deep  within  the  hearts  of  men,  if  only 
hearts  can  be  touched,  are  the  seeds  of  what  Christ 
meant  by  brotherly  love.  It  is  pleasant  to  contrast 
the  paganism  of  Malta  with  the  piety  of  Jerusalem. 
When  they  suggested  that  the  first  thing  to  do 
was  to  kindle  a  fire,  Paul  entered  into  the  picnic 
with  his  usual  zest  and  gathered  whatever  appeared 
as  a  stick  to  his  imperfect  vision.  The  fact  that 
there  were  snakes  in  the  grass  had  never  deterred 
him  from  any  enterprise,  for  that  man  will  make 
nothing  at  all  who  fears  making  mistakes.  When 
a  viper  fastened  on  his  hand,  they  concluded  at  once 
that  he  must  have  committed  murder.  By  the 
same  argument  the  father  of  Publius,  their  squire 
or  laird,  must  also  have  been  a  great  malefactor 
since  he  was  poisoned  by  the  germs  of  a  serious 
fever.  Paul  was  thus  confronted  by  the  same  situa- 
tion with  which  Christ  had  to  deal,  namely,  a  com- 
mon belief  that  sickness  is  sin  without  hope  either 
of  healing  or  of  salvation.  How  he  dealt  with  the 
two  cases  is  interesting.  With  immediate  presence 
of  mind,  he  held  the  viper  over  the  fire,  which 
forced  the  reptile  to  relax  its  grip  without  tearing 
the  flesh  while  bringing  the  heat  to  bear  upon  what- 
ever venom  had  reached  the  hand.  It  may  have 
cost  him  no  little  pain,  but  the  hand  was  healed 
and  the  life  was  preserved.     On  the  one  hand,  Paul 


THE  VOYAGE  317 

was  armed  with  a  promise  that  in  doing  Christ's 
work  he  should  be  immune  from  dangerous  reptiles 
until  the  work  was  done,  and  on  the  other  hand  he 
obeyed  Christ's  command  that  if  thy  hand  offend 
thee,  cut  it  off.  In  exposing  his  arm  to  the  flame, 
possibly  by  the  advice  of  Luke  the  physician,  Paul 
laid  the  foundation  of  modern  surgery. 

Anaesthetics  carhe  later.  In  Paul's  intense  sym- 
pathy with  the  sick, — for  instance,  Timothy  and 
Epaphroditus  and  Trophimus — the  apostle  antici- 
pated even  these  merciful  expedients.  For  three 
months  the  apostle  played  the  part  of  medical 
missionary.  Of  Luke's  assistance  not  a  word  is 
said.  Every  good  result  is  attributed  to  the  prayers 
of  God's  ambassador.  He  laid  his  hands  on  the 
father  of  Publius,  who  recovered,  and  when  at  last 
the  little  party  left  the  island  the  inhabitants  could 
not  sufficiently  show  their  sense  of  indebtedness. 
Of  Malta  we  do  not  again  hear  anything.  But 
from  that  day  onward  there  must  have  been  in  that 
island  a  society  of  Christians.  Not  a  soldier,  not 
a  seaman  who  touches  at  the  mighty  fortress 
which  has  since  arisen  can  avoid  the  story  of  Paul's 
heroism.  Even  at  Crete,  where  the  apostle  was 
anchored  for  a  much  briefer  period  than  the  three 
months  which  he  spent  at  Malta,  a  church  arose  to 
supervise  which  he  sent  his  younger  friend  Titus, 
with  a  warning  that  he  would  find  the  people 
singularly  indifferent  to  truth !  Wherever  Paul 
went  it  seemed  as  if  the  Cause  took  root. 

Tvv^o  ships  had  failed  to  bring  the  apostle  to 
Rome,  but  a  third  was  lying  there  in  harbour,  hav- 
ing wintered  in  the  island.  Its  sign  was  Castor  and 
Pollux,  and  there  is  a  certain  irony  in  the  spectacle 


318  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

of  Paul  the  apostle  proceeding  to  the  imperial  city 
under  the  auspices  of  these  well-meaning,  yet  some- 
what obsolete  tutelary  deities.  Yet  they  are  men- 
tioned with  all  respect.  Even  an  imperfect  recog- 
nition of  the  unseen  is  better  than  none  at  all.  A 
petition  to  Castor  and  Pollux  is  at  least  less  blas- 
phemous than  the  conduct  of  passengers  who  brave 
the  ocean  without  one  hint  whether  on  Sunday  or 
week-day  that  they  owe  their  safety  on  land  and 
water  to  a  Providence  beyond  themselves.  After 
patient  navigation  they  reached  Syracuse,  in  Sicily, 
and  so  proceeded  to  Rhegium,  thence  sailing  on- 
ward under  the  very  shadow  of  Mount  Vesuvius,  in 
the  bosom  of  which  volcano  there  was  already  pent 
up  the  fire  and  the  brimstone  that  were  to  over- 
whelm Drusilla,  wife  of  Felix,  who  sat  by  her 
trembling  husband's  side  as  Paul  argued  about 
righteousness,  temperance,  and  the  judgment  to 
come.     So  ended  Paul's  voyage. 


XXXVI 
PAUL  WINS  THE  RACE 

IN  telling  the  unfinished  story  of  Paul's  residence 
at  Rome,  I  must  confine  myself  strictly  to  the 
materials  which  any  one  may  discover  for  himself 
in  the  Acts  and  the  later  Epistles.  Those  build- 
ings of  which  we  still  admire  the  mere  ruins 
adorned  the  imperial  city  with  a  glory  that  made 
but  little  impression  upon  the  apostle  and  his  com- 
panions. Whether  it  be  that  he  was  kept  by  his 
chain  in  one  rented  house  or  that  his  physical  eye- 
sight was  now  very  dim,  I  cannot  say,  but  the  fact 
is  plain  that  in  his  letters,  written  from  Rome, — 
even  the  most  intimate  of  them  to  Timothy — he 
ignores  the  palaces  and  the  temples,  the  tramp  of 
the  garrison  and  the  pomp  of  the  Emperor's  court, 
and  devotes  himself  entirely  to  what  was  going  on 
in  men's  hearts,  to  the  circumstances  of  an  escaped 
slave  like  Onesimus,  to  the  care  of  the  churches, 
not  as  edifices,  for  there  were  none,  but  as  societies 
of  living,  laughing,  sorrowing,  rejoicing  brothers 
and  sisters  in  Christ.  Paul's  attitude  towards  the 
magnificence  of  Roman  architecture  curiously  re- 
sembled the  mind  of  Our  Lord  when  He  said  that 
of  the  huge  stones  on  which  rested  the  Temple  at 
Jerusalem,  not  one  would  lie  upon  another  since  all 
would  be  thrown  down.  No  church— no  syna- 
gogue— no  capitol  is  safe  which   has  become  ir- 

3^9 


320     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

relevant  to  human  happiness.  It  was  not  in  the 
forum  that  Roman  history  was  proceeding  mainly, 
but  in  Paul's  private  dwelhng.  And  in  the  other 
houses,  Uke  that  of  Aquila  and  Priscilla,  where  the 
disciples  of  the  forward-looking  Saviour  used  to 
assemble. 

Many  great  and  delightful  books  have  been 
written  about  the  sights  and  sounds  which  greeted 
Paul  on  his  arrival,  but  my  object  is  not  archaeology. 
What  concerns  us  here  is  the  fact  that  Puteoli  is 
only  mentioned  at  all  because  the  brethren  were 
found  there,  who  begged  Paul  to  stay  with  them 
for  seven  days.  So  far  as  we  are  told,  no  apostle — 
no  evangelist  had  preached  the  Gospel  in  Puteoli, 
yet  here,  as  in  Tyre  and  other  places,  the  fire  had 
been  kindled,  one  might  almost  say  by  spontaneous 
combustion,  through  men,  whose  very  names  are 
forgotten,  finding  in  Christ's  Cause  a  career,  un- 
recognized by  the  press  but  of  an  absorbing  fascina- 
tion to  the  individual.  Here  indeed  there  was  a 
catholic  apostolic  church,  best  described,  however, 
as  universal,  as  missionary,  as  a  society.  In  para- 
phrase, we  get  at  the  meaning. 

That  Julius  the  centurion  should  have  allowed 
Paul  thus  to  spend  seven  days  in  Puteoli  is  a  last 
evidence  of  the  apostle's  commanding  personality. 
And  so,  writes  Luke  with  a  touch  of  pride — And  so 
we  zvent  towards  Rome.  If  Christ  entered  Jerusalem 
as  King,  destined  to  die,  so  with  a  royal  dignity  did 
His  Ambassador  approach  the  enthroned  Caesar, 
to  whom  he  was  accredited.  But  the  day  came 
when  Puteoli  itself  had  to  be  left  behind.  A  splen- 
did highway  stretched  towards  Rome.  All  manner 
of  vehicles  passed  the  little  knot  of  guarded  and 


PAUL  WINS  THE  RACE  321 

manacled  prisoners.  The  very  slaves  enjoyed  a 
liberty  that  was  denied  to  these  sad  wayfarers. 
But  at  least  there  was  that  in  Paul's  situation  which 
made  him  happier  than  Our  Saviour  had  been  when 
all  forsook  Him  and  fled.  Marching  at  his  side, 
mile  after  mile,  were  Luke  and  other  friends,  and 
from  Rome  herself  came  forth  to  welcome  him 
many  brethren  who  had  heard  of  his  approach. 
There  indeed  was  a  reception  that  contrasted  with 
the  timidity  of  Jerusalem.  Strike  down  Paul  and 
Rome  must  understand  that  there  would  be  others 
left.  When  Paul  saw  these  Christians,  he  thanked 
God  and  took  courage.  For  here  in  very  truth  was  a 
Church,  founded  by  no  man,  whether  Peter  or  an- 
other, governed  by  no  Pope,  in  which  no  mention 
is  made  of  Cardinal,  Patriarch  or  Bishop,— a 
Church  whose  one  foundation  was  Jesus  Christ  the 
Lord— a  Church  that  was  His  new  creation— by 
water  and  the  Word.  No  wonder  that  at  the  Three 
Taverns  Paul's  heart  leapt  within  him. 

Arriving  at  last  in  Rome,  he  bade  farewell  to 
Julius  the  centurion,  who  handed  him  over  to  the 
captain  of  the  guard.  Recognizing  that  all  things 
work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God, 
Paul  had  devoted  infinite  care  to  his  conduct  to- 
wards the  pagans  whom  he  met,  with  this  result, 
that  Julius  put  in  a  plea  for  his  generous  treatment. 
The  storm,  the  shipwreck,  the  viper  at  Malta  and 
the  illness  of  the  father  of  Publius  were  affairs  not 
obviously  related  to  house  property  in  Rome,  yet 
taken  in  combination,  they  secured  for  the  apostle 
what  was  nothing  less  than  an  Embassy,  where  he 
could  receive  his  friends  and  whence  he  could  send 
forth  dispatches.     That  hired  house  v/as  a  place 


S22     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

where  Paul  the  missionary  was  always  to  be  found. 
Hitherto  he  had  gone  forth  to  others.  Now  others 
had  to  come  to  him.  And  never  in  his  long-  life  did 
he  spend  his  time  to  better  advantage  than  here, 
chained  to  a  soldier  in  Rome.  As  he  told  the 
Philippians,  it  actually  assisted  the  good  news.  In 
the  law  courts,  everybody  talked  about  the  appeal. 
Because  Paul  was  chained,  the  other  disciples  be- 
came the  more  bold.  His  courage  infected  them. 
Not  that  we  must  suppose  that  even  in  Rome  the 
disciples  were  unanimous  for  the  free  and  demo- 
cratic view  of  human  life  which  Paul  proclaimed. 
Some  years  earlier  he  had  written  to  the  Romans 
that  masterly  letter  in  which  he  shows  that  law, 
compulsion,  order,  authority,  punishment,  are  not 
enough  to  save  men's  souls.  In  Jerusalem  the  law 
was  religious;  in  Rome  it  was  political;  but,  in 
either  event,  the  law  only  teaches  us  our  need  of 
love,  of  pardon,  of  help,  which  blessings  are  to  be 
found  nowhere  save  in  the  life  and  the  death  of 
Christ.  In  his  epistle  to  the  Romans  he  is  careful 
to  tell  the  disciples  that  civil  authority  must  be  re- 
spected, that  taxes  must  be  paid  and  that  just  debts 
must  not  be  left  owing.  And,  having  thus  dealt 
with  secular  law,  Paul  now  summoned  the  chief  of 
the  Jews  and  formally  submitted  himself  to  the  re- 
ligious claims  of  the  ancient  people,  and  to  observ- 
ance of  Mosaic  rites.  In  Rome  the  Jews  were  un- 
popular and  had  already  been  once  expelled. 
Slowly  but  surely,  the  troubles  were  rolling  up 
which  would  culminate  in  the  siege  and  destruction 
of  Jerusalem,  and  in  the  scattering  of  Israel  as  a 
nation.  The  status  of  Paul  as  a  prisoner  was  that 
of  Roman  citizen,  and  after  his  treatment  by  the 


PAUL  WINS  THE  RACE  323 

Jews  he  owed  nothing,  so  one  would  have  thought, 
to  their  rabbis.  But  his  was  a  nature  incapable  of 
malice  or  revenge.  Driven  from  an  arrogant 
Mount  Zion,  he  associated  himself  with  Zionists  in 
distress,  many  of  whom  had  been  already  mal- 
treated. There  was  no  necessity  for  him  so  to  do. 
They  had  received  no  accusation  against  him.  Yet, 
from  morning  till  night,  he  reasoned  with  them 
about  the  Messiah.  They  agreed  that  the  Faith 
was  by  this  time  a  fact  everywhere  spoken  against 
and  a  fact  thus  to  be  reckoned  with.  By  the  word 
everyzvhere  the  Jews  meant  all  places  where  they 
themselves  met.  They  insisted  still  in  arguing 
about  Jesus  of  Nazareth  only  with  one  another. 
To  the  world  at  large  they  denied  a  hearing.  What 
Julius  the  centurion  thought  was  not  evidence. 
And  from  the  synagogue,  therefore,  the  Cloud  and 
the  Fire  passed  like  a  pillar  and  stood  over  the 
house  where  Paul  dwelt.  Before  the  Jews  left 
him,  Paul  hurled  at  them  with  crushing  force  a 
thrice  quoted  saying  of  Isaiah,  who — with  intimate 
knowledge  of  national  psychology — told  how,  hear- 
ing, they  would  not  understand, — seeing,  they 
would  not  perceive — deaf  and  blind,  they  would  not 
be  healed. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  strange  and  tragic  scene — this 
final  leave-taking  between  Paul  and  the  children  of 
Israel.  Luke  tells  how  they  parted,  at  dead  of 
night,  weary  with  long  contention,  and  yet  how  the 
rabbis  went  on  discussing  the  business,  out  in  the 
street,  with  all  the  animation  of  their  keen-witted 
intelligence.  Some  of  them  agreed  with  Paul  as 
to  Jesus  the  Christ,  but  like  the  Galatians  and 
Judean    Israelites,    they  wanted    Christ   to   them- 


324     THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

selves,  and  within  the  Church  there  thus  arose  a 
certain  now  famiUar  contention.  In  former  years 
this  perhaps  would  have  been  denounced  by  Paul. 
Henceforth,  wrote  he  to  Galatia,  let  no  man  trouble  me, 
for  I  bear  in  my  body  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  But 
that  was  before  his  great  renunciation.  He  had 
not  then  lived  for  years  with  chains  on  his  wrists. 
He  was  now  in  a  very  different  mood.  He  knew 
that  they  who  troubled  the  Church  desired  to  add 
affliction  to  his  bonds,  but,  with  a  touch  of  actual 
gaiety,  which  reappears  as  a  pun  in  the  letter  to 
Philemon,  he  remarks,  What  then?  Notzvithstanding 
all  this, — every  way,  zvhether  in  pretense  or  in  truth, 
Christ  is  preached;  and  I  therein  do  rejoice,  yea,  and  will 
rejoice.  What  tons  of  acrimonious  controversy 
would  have  been  avoided  in  the  Church  if  the  faith- 
ful had  realized  that  in  pretense,  as  well  as  in 
truth,  Christ  may  be  preached! 

Each  day  as  it  came  was  fully  employed.  Paul 
developed  a  large  correspondence  and,  happily  for 
us,  a  few  of  his  best  letters  survive.  In  one  case 
there  came  from  Philippi  a  friend  called  Epaphro- 
ditus,  bringing  a  gift  of  money,  which  doubtless 
helped  Paul  with  his  rent  and  anyway  touched 
him  to  the  heart.  Unfortunately,  as  it  seemed, 
Epaphroditus  fell  dangerously  sick — indeed,  he 
ought  not  to  have  travelled  at  all — his  only  reason 
being  that  money  which  Paul  needed  was  waiting 
at  Philippi,  with  nobody  else  to  bring  it.  Paul  sent 
him  back  with  one  of  the  tenderest  letters  of  thanks 
ever  put  upon  paper.  His  gratitude  was  the  more 
abundant  because  the  sickness  of  Epaphroditus  was 
already  known  in  Philippi,  where,  possibly,  there 
were  those  who  said — **  We  told  you  so — he  ought 


PAUL  WINS  THE  KACE  325 

never  to  have  started !  "  Yet  if  Epaphroditus  had 
not  started,  we  should  have  lost  three  immortal 
pages  of  the  New  Testament. 

Stranger  still  was  the  sudden  appearance  in 
Paul's  house  of  a  runaway  slave.  His  name  was 
Onesimus,  and  he  had  travelled  all  the  way  from 
Colosse  in  Asia  Minor,  with  money  stolen  from  his 
master,  Philemon,  who  was  a  Christian  and  a 
valued  friend  of  Paul.  Having  thus  absconded, 
one  would  have  thought  that  Onesimus,  finding 
himself  in  Rome,  would  have  taken  good  care  to 
avoid  the  apostle,  who  at  once  must  detect  his 
crime.  Moreover,  a  private  interview  was  impos- 
sible owing  to  the  presence  of  soldiers  in  Paul's 
room.  But  Onesimus  knew  how  Christians  re- 
garded their  slaves  and  he  made  a  clean  breast  of 
his  whole  offense.  Now  arose  the  question  what 
Paul  ought  to  do.  During  his  own  journey  to 
Rome,  he  had  been  allowed  every  possible  oppor- 
tunity to  escape.  Though  the  victim  of  gross  in- 
justice, and  threatened  with  violent  death,  he  had 
resumed  and  still  wore  the  chain.  He  did  not  at- 
tempt to  justify  the  action  of  Onesimus,  and  for  a 
simple  reason, — the  man  himself  had  an  uneasy 
conscience.  Paul  the  prisoner,  therefore,  sent  back 
Onesimus  the  slave  to  Philemon. 

Obviously,  there  was  no  reason  why  Onesimus 
should  have  gone.  Paul  might  give  him  Tychicus 
as  companion  but  he  had  no  power  to  appoint  an 
escort.  Onesimus  had,  however,  been  first  won  for 
Christ  and  in  Christ  he  took  upon  himself  the  form 
of  a  servant.  Submitting  to  social  injustice,  he  was 
happier  than  he  had  been  when  rebelling  against 
it.     Philemon,  who  had  become  to  him  a  grievance, 


326     THE  CHURCH  WE  FOEGET 

was  now  an  accepted  duty  and,  in  fulfilling  that 
duty,  Onesimus  became  Paul's  faithful  and  beloved 
brother,  indeed  his  messenger  with  Tychicus  to  the 
entire  Colossian  Church. 

To  the  submission  of  Onesimus,  and  his  return 
with  Tychicus,  we  owe  three  letters — to  the  Ephe- 
sians,  the  Colossians  and  to  Philemon  himself. 
But,  instructive  as  is  that  providence,  what  im- 
presses one  most  of  all  is  the  statesmanship  with 
which  Paul  handled  this  difficult  problem  of  slavery. 
By  harbouring  Onesimus,  he  would  have  invited 
every  bondservant  in  the  Roman  Empire,  there  and 
then,  to  rebel  against  industrial  conditions,  which 
were  often  intolerable.  He  would  have  declared  a 
general  strike  which  would  have  paralyzed  com- 
merce, provoked  unbounded  bloodshed  and  caused 
infinite  want  and  hunger.  His  alternative  policy 
was  to  teach  Philemon  the  hitherto  unknown  value 
of  the  man  he  employed  as  a  slave,  his  dignity  as 
one  for  whom  Christ  died,  and  his  place  in  the 
Church.  Also,  he  told  all  the  other  disciples  in 
Colosse  that  Onesimus  was  Paul's  brother  in 
Christ  and  that  the  writ  of  servitude  does  not  run 
near  God's  altar. 

In  this  incident  we  see  a  Christian  leader,  who 
has  himself  laid  down  his  life  for  the  One  Lord, 
successfully  drawing  together  employer  and  em- 
ployed, and  so  reuniting  the  broken  solidarity  of 
nations.  He  ordains  that  a  liberated  workman, 
with  high  ideals,  is  of  far  greater  value  to  the 
master  than  an  underpaid,  discontented  and  de- 
graded operative.  His  remedy  for  strikes,  which 
he  neither  advocates  nor  defends,  is  the  constrain- 
ing love  of  the  Redeemer,  known  by  both  parties  to 


PAUL  WINS  THE  RACE  327 

the  dispute,  which  transcends  all  financial  considera- 
tions and  must  impel  men  to  grant  to  one  another 
even  more  than  what  strict  justice  demands. 
Lastly,  he  meets  the  legitimate  ambition  of  Onesi- 
mus  by  offering  him,  outside  his  daily  work,  an 
illimitable  field  in  the  Church,  for  service  and  sacri- 
fice and  achievement. 

Whether  Paul  was  released  for  a  time  and  then 
travelled  again  until  he  was  once  more  arrested,  is 
a  question  almost  certainly  to  be  answered  in  the 
affirmative.  It  shows  that  he  had  no  intention  of 
making  Rome  a  Church  with  ecclesiastical  primacy. 
But  for  our  purpose  here,  his  first  and  second  im- 
prisonments under  Caesar  were  parts  of  the  same 
drama  that  ended  in  his  death.  At  first  he  was 
surrounded  by  friends,  but,  one  by  one,  they  left 
him.  To  Philippi,  as  we  have  seen,  went  Epaphro- 
ditus,  and  to  Colosse  went  Onesimus  and  Tychicus. 
Even  Timothy,  who  helped  him  with  his  letters  to 
Philemon,  Philippi  and  Colosse,  could  not  be  spared 
from  the  work  at  Ephesus,  whither  Paul  sent  him, 
afterwards  dispatching  to  him  two  letters,  of  which 
the  latter  certainly  was  written  from  Rome.  One 
man,  Demas,  was  a  faithful  fellow  labourer  until 
his  courage  failed  and,  loving  this  present  world, 
he  deserted.  Apparently  Epaphras,  the  Colossian, 
and  Aristarchus,  the  Macedonian,  lived  with  Paul 
in  his  house,  for  he  calls  them  in  his  playful  way 
his  fellow-prisoners.  Yet  even  they  have  vanished 
when  the  end  drew  on.  Only  Luke  is  zvith  me,  wrote 
Paul  to  Timothy — only  Luke.  Crescens  had  de- 
parted for  Galatia.  Titus  was  oflF  to  Dalmatia  and 
would  take  up  work  in  Crete.  Mark  was  with 
Timothy  in  Ephesus  and  in  sending  for  Timothy, 


328     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Paul,  sensitive  to  the  last  where  he  had  once  given 
pain,  begged  him  to  bring  this  now  seasoned  soldier 
of  the  Cross. 

No  one  can  say  whether  Timothy,  who  was 
Paul's  own  son  in  the  faith,  arrived  in  time.  To 
Philippi,  Paul  had  spoken  of  his  trial  with  exuberant 
rejoicing — to  be  with  Christ  would  be  far  better — 
but  years  had  passed  under  the  shadow  of  Nero's 
murderous  mania ;  at  his  first  hearing,  no  one  had 
stood  with  Paul,  and  from  Ephesus,  Alexander  the 
coppersmith  had  arrived,  a  damning  witness,  with 
his  own  account  of  the  riot  there.  Paul  was  re- 
prieved, but  with  difficulty,  as  if  he  had  been  de- 
livered from  the  mouth  of  a  lion.  By  this  time  it 
was  hard  fighting — it  was  fighting  the  good  fight, — 
it  was  finishing  the  straight  course — it  was  keeping 
the  faith. 

Only  Luke  was  with  him,  and  how  did  they 
spend  their  time?  If  I  am  to  reject  all  tradition,  I 
must  leave  the  picture  blank,  but  otherwise  I  see 
two  men,  one  old  and  chained,  while  the  other  is 
younger.  He  holds  the  pen  and  together  they 
compose  the  Gentile's  Gospel  of  Christ, — the  Gos- 
pel which  shows  that  if  He  were  the  son  of  Abra- 
ham and  David,  He  was  also  the  son  of  Adam  and 
of  God, — the  Gospel  of  Luke.  That  goes  forth  to 
the  world,  and  a  second  book  is  begun,  written  also 
to  Theophilus,  in  similar  style  to  the  first,  telling 
of  the  Church,  of  Stephen, — how  well  Paul  knew 
his  apology! — of  Barnabas,  of  Peter,  of  Paul  him- 
self. Gradually  the  narrative  becomes  more 
graphic — Luke  himself  was  eye-witness — could 
write  in  the  first  person — could  give  actual  reminis- 
cences.    He  brings  Paul  to  Malta,  to  Syracuse,  to 


PAUL  WINS  THE  RACE  329 

Puteoli,  to  Rome,  to  the  hired  house.  He  tells  of 
the  two  years  there  spent  and  he  is  just  going  to 
tell  something  more,  what  happened  next,  when 
suddenly,  grimly,  something  stops  him.  The  pen 
is  swept  from  his  hand.  The  page  is  left  unfinished. 
It  is  as  if  the  sword  of  Damocles  had  cut  the  thread 
of  placid  narration. 

For  there  came  a  day  when  hearts  stood  still  as 
the  measured  tread  of  soldiers  was  heard  in  the 
street.  Paul  must  arise  and  Luke  must  be  left  by 
himself.  He  wrote  nothing  further.  And  if  he 
wrote  nothing,  it  was  because  he  could  not.  Many 
of  the  early  Christians  died  a  martyr's  death,  but 
Foxe's  Book  of  Martyrs  came  much  later.  There 
were  atrocities  perpetrated,  but  no  mongering  of 
them.  It  was  the  Spain  of  a  decadent  age  that 
lived  on  the  lurid  horrors  of  an  anatomical  art. 
For  the  stones  which  slew  Stephen  are  mentioned 
merely  as  a  fact  and  the  murder  of  James  is  told 
in  a  sentence.  To  Paul,  death  was  "a  Hght  af- 
fliction but  for  a  moment  "  and  in  one  of  his  last 
letters  he  wrote.  Whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  think 
on  those  things.  By  discouraging  morbid  brooding, 
the  disciples  set  a  standard  for  the  heroism  which 
pervades  our  hospitals.  Enough  for  them  that 
shed  blood  be  remembered  before  the  throne  of 
God.  They  loved  one  another  too  well  to  make  a 
spectacle  of  family  bereavements. 

Here,  on  this  desk,  Hes  that  last  verse  of  the 
Acts — and  after  it  comes  the  rest  of  the  page,  white 
as  snow  and  strangely  silent.  Paul  gone — and 
Luke  left  How  could  Luke  continue  his  task? 
Paul  gone — and  only  Luke  left, — Luke  all  by  him- 
self. 


330  THE  CHUPvCH  WE  FORGET 

And  to-day  in  New  York  and  in  London,  the  two 
mightiest  cities  of  the  world,  the  churches  that 
are  most  historic,  where  Washington  worshipped, 
where  WelUngton  and  Nelson  are  buried,  have  been 
dedicated,  both  of  them,  to  Paul.  Still  does  his 
liberal  spirit  reconcile  old  and  new  in  one  brother- 
hood— Barbarian,  Scythian,  Bond  and  Free.  Yet, 
as  one  bids  him  good-bye,  it  is  not  what  he  did, 
but  what  he  was — so  brave,  so  loyal,  so  rich  in 
faith  and  humour — that  leads  one  to  understand 
why  Luke*s  indelible  ink  changed  in  a  moment  to 
invisible  tears. 


XXXVII 
THE  TRIUMPH  OF  PETER 

IN  reading  the  published  correspondence  of  the 
early  Christians,  I  am  struck,  first,  by  amaze- 
ment that  these  letters  should  have  been  written 
at  all,  and  secondly,  that  when  written,  they  should 
have  been  so  widely  popular.  Reckoning  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  there  are  twenty-one  of 
these  documents,  and  if  one  takes  any  ordinary 
Sunday  newspaper,  intended  for  the  delectation  of 
mankind,  or  the  usual  modern  novel  or  even  biog- 
raphy, and  compares  these  with,  let  us  say,  the  half 
dozen  pages  which  Peter  has  left  us,  one  appreci- 
ates how  astonishing  is  the  difference  made  in 
men's  minds  by  whatever  it  is  that  we  call  Chris- 
tian piety.  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  is,  strictly 
speaking,  not  an  epistle  at  all  but  a  treatise,  and  as 
such  it  should  be  considered  apart.  And  possibly 
this  comment  also  applies  to  the  first  Epistle  of 
John.  But  the  other  nineteen  letters  are  correctly 
described  as  such.  They  are  written  with  an  art- 
less ease  which  gives  one  the  idea  that  a  man  is 
talking  to  his  friends,  freely  and  familiarly;  and, 
in  reading,  you  are  carried  on  from  sentence  to 
sentence,  from  one  idea  to  the  next,  without  effort 
or  pause.  Not  only  was  Paul  a  discursive  writer, 
which  often  happens  when  a  man  dictates  his 
thoughts  to  an  amanuensis,  but  he  was  often  in- 

331 


332  THE  CHUECH  WE  FORGET 

terrupted,  and — as  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Cor- 
inthians— he  would  start  afresh  what  he  was  trying 
to  say.  It  seems  to  me  that  any  attempt  to  reduce 
these  letters  to  the  orderly  sequence  of  a  theological 
code  must  fail.  It  is  true  enough  that  commenta- 
tors have  fully  established  the  masterly  exactitude 
of  the  language  often  employed.  But  if  God  had 
wished  to  give  us,  through  the  early  Christians,  the 
creeds  and  the  catechisms  and  the  articles  of  religion 
which  holy  men  have  since  developed,  He  would 
surely  have  used  a  more  suitable  literary  vehicle. 
The  value  of  the  letters  lies,  indeed,  precisely  in  this 
fact  that  they  were  the  inspiration  of  a  moment,  the 
very  conversation  of  God  to  man  and  not  man's 
elaborate  conception  of  what  he  means  by  God. 
Therefore  I  take  these  Scriptures,  exactly  as  God 
gave  them,  as  cheerful,  sensible  and  often  warning 
notes,  signed  Paul,  or  Peter,  or  Jude,  or  John,  or 
James,  and  dropped  into  the  mail  box  for  me,  many 
hundred  years  ago,  in  order  that  I  might  learn  of 
God,  not  as  an  abstract  divinity  but  as  the  Friend 
and  Tenant  of  a  good  man's  heart. 

It  is  because  I  am  interested  in  Peter  himself  that 
I  like  to  read  his  final  writings.  For  years  this 
apostle  has  disappeared  from  our  view.  We  saw 
him  last  at  Antioch,  still  a  man  of  impetuous  judg- 
ment, uncertain  in  conduct,  afraid  of  Jewish  hos- 
tility and  therefore  nervous  of  missionary  enter- 
prise among  the  Gentiles.  Owing  to  faults  of 
temper,  he  has  lost  the  leadership  of  the  Church. 
It  is  upon  Paul  that  the  limelight  is  concentrated. 
Now  open  his  two  epistles  and  you  discover  a 
serene  breadth  of  vision  which  at  first  you  can 
scarcely  explain.     What  is  it  that  has  made  Peter 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  PETER  333 

so  much  greater  in  retirement  than  ever  he  was 
when  he  stood  in  the  forefront  of  affairs?  He  him- 
self answers  the  question.  Behind  the  scenes  he 
has  been  giving  all  diligence  to  his  own  personal 
life  with  Christ.  Beginning  with  faith,  he  has 
added  unto  it  virtue  or  manliness,  a  readiness  to 
stand  out  against  public  opinion,  an  indifference  to 
suffering  and  pain.  To  manliness  he  has  added 
knowledge,  a  closer  acquaintance  with  the  actual 
problems  which  Gentiles,  like  Jews,  have  to  face, — 
that  knowledge  which  is  the  basis  of  all  right  judg- 
ment. Next  he  has  added  temperance,  or  self-re- 
straint, and  to  self-restraint  he  has  added  patience, 
which  means  the  long  suffering  of  circumstances. 
So  has  there  developed  in  him  by  sure  stages  a  cer- 
tain godliness,  or  likeness  to  the  Eternal  which  is 
revealed,  first  in  an  unexpected  brotherly  kindness 
and  finally  in  a  love  which  embraces  the  whole 
world.  It  is  that  diligent  education  which  has 
changed  the  Peter  of  Palestine  into  the  Peter  of 
the  epistles.  From  him  we  learn  that  Christian 
devotions  are  not  the  mechanical  telling  of  beads  or 
the  winding  of  a  Tibetan  prayer-wheel  but  a  rea- 
soned, conscious,  intelligent  growth  of  a  noble  and 
a  reliable  character.  It  is  what  he  calls  the  abun- 
dant entrance  of  men  and  women  into  the  King- 
dom of  God. 

In  earlier  years  Peter  had  worked  miracles,  but 
of  these  he  says  not  a  syllable.  His  one  chief 
reminiscence  is  of  Christ's  Glory  on  the  Mount 
which  overshadows  every  other.  Apart  from  this 
single  allusion  he  does  not  even  claim  that  especial 
status  which  had  been  so  dear  to  him,  namely,  the 
prestige  of  witness  to  the  earthly  life  of  Christ. 


334  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET  ' 

Where  he  might  have  boasted  of  those  memories, 
he  lays  them  aside.  No  longer  does  he  talk  of  a 
historic  Christ  but  of  that  still  more  glorious  Being 
Whom,  having  not  seen,  wt  love.  So  humble  had 
Peter  become  that  he  exalted  a  later  generation  of 
disciples  over  his  own.  Sincere  as  had  been  his 
love  for  the  Redeemer,  he  praised  theirs  more 
highly.  He  did  not  discourage,  or  as  we  should 
put  it,  snub  them  because  of  their  new  ways  of 
showing  their  devotion  to  the  one  Master.  He  was 
an  evangelical  who  desired  social  justice — a  Bible 
student  who  valued  natural  science — a  Sabbatarian 
who  recognized  the  right  of  the  people  to  reason- 
able amusement.  Christ  had  changed  Peter's 
static  mind  into  an  instrument  of  ordered  progress. 
Similar  to  all  this  is  Peter's  new  attitude  towards 
Jew  and  Gentile,  east  and  west,  French  and  Ger- 
mans,— to  all  racial  and  religious  antagonisms.  It 
seems  as  if  he  had  climbed  out  of  some  narrow 
valley  where  he  and  his  forebears  had  lived  all  their 
lives  and  now  stood  upon  the  crest  of  a  mountain 
where  he  surveyed  the  world  with  frontiers  ob- 
literated under  the  warm  radiance  of  Christ's  uni- 
versal care  for  mankind.  It  is  true  that  the  first 
letter  is  addressed  to  the  Jews  of  the  dispersion,  but 
its  sequel  is  offered  without  restriction  to  all  in 
every  land  and  every  age  wdio  share  with  Peter  the 
faith  which  he  has  found  to  be  so  precious.  Paul 
himself  has  not  outlined  the  privileges  of  the 
humblest  disciples  in  terms  more  glowing  than  the 
words  of  Peter.  You  and  I  are  chosen  not  by 
descent  from  Abraham,  whom  Peter  no  longer 
mentions,  but  by  the  foreknowledge  of  God  the 
Father.     We  have  an  inheritance,  reserved  for  us 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  PETER  335 

in  no  earthly  land  however  venerable,  but  in  the 
everlasting  regions  of  happiness.  It  is  no  temple 
offering  or  sacrifice  that  has  redeemed  us  but  the 
precious  blood  of  Christ.  In  Him  are  we  a  chosen 
generation,  a  royal  priesthood,  an  holy  nation,  a 
peculiar  people.  It  is  He  and  He  alone  Who  call- 
eth  out  of  darkness  into  light.  Of  circumcision 
and  the  law,  about  which  Peter  used  to  argue  so 
hotly,  he  now  says  scarcely  a  word.  He  who  had 
been  the  narrowest  of  patriots,  the  proudest  of 
Spanish  Grandees,  the  strictest  of  Brahmins,  is  now 
a  friend  and  champion  of  men  and  women  who  be- 
came strangers  or  outcasts  for  Christ's  sake. 

Here  then  we  see  Peter,  a  Jew,  like  Paul,  the 
Jew,  sharing  his  birthright  with  the  Gentile.  What 
that  meant  we  can  best  realize  by  imagining  the 
sensation  which  would  arise  if  the  Pope  of  Rome 
were  suddenly  to  issue  an  encyclical,  not  asserting 
the  claims  and  privileges  of  the  Vatican,  but  de- 
claring the  fullness  of  the  grace,  the  splendour  of 
the  gifts  that  have  been  granted  in  Christ  to  the 
Society  of  Friends.  Conversely,  let  us  suppose 
that  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  Ulster  or  the  Wee 
Frees  of  Scotland  were  to  publish  in  the  press  a 
manifesto  setting  forth  the  triumphs  of  reverence, 
and  sacrifice  which  have  been  accomplished  in] 
Christ  by  members  of  the  Catholic  Communion. 
What  surprise  there  would  be !  Yet  nothing  less 
than  that  was  the  achievement  of  Simon  Peter. 
He  was  not  content  to  suggest  that  the  faith  of 
other  disciples  might  ultimately  prove  to  be  in  the 
pardoning  providence  of  God  a  pale  reflection  of 
his  own.  In  extolling  that  faith,  he  exhausted  the 
wealth  of  his  vocabulary. 


336     THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

One  might  have  assumed  that  Peter  would  have 
said  something  about  his  alleged  position  as  the 
rock  on  which  would  be  built  the  Christian  Church. 
He  does  indeed  mention  the  living  stone,  disallowed 
of  men  but  chosen  of  God  and  precious.  He  refers 
to  the  stone  which  is  made  the  head  of  the  corner. 
Here  if  anywhere  was  his  opportunity  of  remind- 
ing the  disciples  of  what  Jesus  had  said  on  that  day 
which  preceded  the  Transfiguration.  In  fact,  as 
we  have  seen,  Peter  mentions  the  Transfiguration. 
But  he  recognizes  no  corner-stone  for  the  Church 
save  Christ  alone.  Where  Christ  had  told  him  to 
feed  the  Church  of  God,  he  bids  the  disciples  to 
return  direct  to  Christ,  as  the  only  Shepherd  and 
Bishop  of  their  souls.  He  will  admit  no  other  head 
of  the  Church,  whether  royal  or  ecclesiastical,  save 
Our  Lord  Himself.  No  disciple  is  to  become  a 
lord  over  the  flock,  assuming  a  title  or  dignity,  but 
every  follower  of  the  Master  is  to  be  content  to 
live  as  His  example,  in  lowliness  of  mind,  showing 
to  others  what  He  was.  Though  an  apostle  and 
witness  of  Christ's  sufferings,  Peter,  like  John,  de- 
liberately wrote  to  the  elders  of  the  Church  as  one 
who  was  also  an  elder — no  more  than  an  elder — 
and  it  was  to  other  elders  as  colleagues  and  equals 
that  he  handed  on,  undiminished  in  its  authority, 
Christ's  command  that  he  should  tend  His  sheep. 
Peter  who  once  stood  forth  so  boldly  in  the  midst 
of  the  Church,  ended  his  career  as  the  noblest  ex- 
ponent of  ecclesiastical  modesty.  Doubtless  he 
calls  himself  Peter,  but  in  the  second  of  his  epistles 
he  is  careful  to  include  his  earlier  name,  Simon. 
He  knew  that  Israel  the  prince  never  ceased  to  be 
Jacob. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  PETER  337 

That  second  epistle  was  Peter's  last  will  and 
testament.  In  other  days  death  had  been  to  him 
a  terrible  ordeal  from  which  he  shrank.  He  never 
forgot  what  he  had  seen  of  Christ's  suffering  on  the 
Cross.  In  both  of  his  letters  suffering  is  one  of 
his  favourite  words.  Constantly  present  in  his 
mind  was  Our  Lord's  grim  forecast  that  the  day 
would  come  when  Peter  himself  would  be  bound, 
when  his  hands  would  be  stretched  forth  in  cruci- 
fixion and  he  would  be  carried  where  he  would  not 
wish  to  go.  Jesus  told  him  that  this  would  only 
happen  when  he  was  old  and  here  at  last  had  old 
age  overtaken  him.  In  the  prison  at  Jerusalem, 
when  he  was  a  younger  man,  the  prophecy  may 
have  comforted  him,  but  now  it  meant  in  our  com- 
mon parlance  that  he  was  up  against  it.  His  was  a 
disease  that  nothing  could  cure.  Ahead  of  him  lay 
the  operation  which  he  could  neither  escape  or 
survive.  To  all  his  friends  his  sad  circumstances 
were  manifest.  Yet  he  refers  to  his  future  as  sim- 
ply as  a  child  who  puts  away  his  playthings  before 
going  to  bed.  Shortly,  said  he,  /  must  fold  up  this  my 
tabernacle,  as  the  tabernacle  in  the  wilderness  was 
folded  up,  when  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant  was 
moved  into  the  promised  land.  That  was  how 
Peter  met  his  final  agony. 

Peter  was  once  more  walking  on  the  water  to 
Christ  and  the  storm  raged  around  him.  For  him- 
self he  had  no  longer  any  fear  but  for  the  men  in 
the  boat  he  was  anxious.  Comparison  shows  that 
he  had  many  a  talk  with  Jude  over  the  hurricane 
of  error,  intellectual  and  moral,  which  was  sweep- 
ing over  the  new  society.  Not  once  were  they  ever 
worried  about  the  number  of  the  disciples  in  the 


338      THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Church.  At  first,  as  leaders  of  the  Church,  they 
had  kept  statistics,  but  experience  had  made  them 
wiser  and  they  now  thought  only  of  the  character 
of  the  faithful.  As  they  looked  upon  the  world 
in  which  they  lived,  they  were  reminded  of  the 
social  conditions  which  came  before  the  flood  when 
men  so  spent  their  wealth  and  energies  as  to  make 
no  provision  against  the  most  evident  natural  dan- 
gers on  a  wide-spreading  plain  like  that  of  Meso- 
potamia. They  thought  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrha, 
where  also  the  neglect  of  God  meant  indifference 
of  the  most  ordinary  precautions  in  cities  built  on  a 
bituminous  foundation.  It  seemed  to  them  that  if 
angels  may  fall  through  pride  and  that  if  prophets 
like  Balaam  may  be  bribed  to  their  ruin,  their  own 
neighbours  could  not  escape  the  inevitable  effects 
of  a  similar  depravity.  After  such  conference,  the 
one  with  the  other,  Peter  and  Jude  each  wrote  their 
warning,  and  it  is  perhaps  characteristic  of  our 
modern  scholarship  that  we  have  libraries  of  books, 
half  of  which  tell  us  that  Peter  copied  from  Jude 
while  the  other  half  that  Jude  copied  from  Peter. 
And  we  are  then  surprised  that  our  exegesis  fails 
to  open  up  the  New  Testament  to  ordinary  readers. 
To  me  the  interesting  point  is  that  Jude,  after  such 
association  with  Peter,  should  have  closed  his 
letter  with  the  words  now  unto  Him  Who  is  able  to 
keep  you  from  falling.  It  reminds  one  of  that  scene 
on  Galilee  when  Peter  was  so  brave  until  he  looked 
around  and  saw  how  boisterous  were  the  winds  and 
the  waves.  And  Jesus  Christ,  seeing  him  about  to 
sink,  did  then  stretch  forth  His  hand  and  keep  him 
from  falling. 


XXXVIII 
THE  BEATIFIC  VISION 

IT  was  St.  John  the  Divine  who  said  the  last  word 
for  the  early  Church.  That  he  should  have 
been  called  "  the  divine  "  is  the  more  strange  be- 
cause, after  the  first  week  or  two  following  Pente- 
cost, we  hear  not  one  definite  word  for  sixty  years, 
about  where  he  lived,  what  he  was  thinking,  and 
how  he  was  serving  the  cause.  With  Peter  he 
went  into  the  Temple  at  the  hour  of  prayer,  but  it 
was  Peter  who  uttered  the  command  of  God  to  the 
lame  man;  it  was  Peter  who  addressed  the  Sanhe- 
drin;  it  was  Peter  who  denounced  Ananias  and 
Sapphira;  it  was  Peter  who  handled  the  quarrel 
over  circumcision ;  it  was  Peter  who  braved  the 
wrath  of  Herod  and  was  delivered  from  prison. 
Even  when  Peter  slipped  out  of  the  leadership  of 
the  movement,  John  did  not  take  his  place.  It  was 
James,  the  other  son  of  Zebedee,  who  became 
Bishop  or  Minister  of  the  faithful  at  Jerusalem  and 
was  thus  murdered  by  the  king.  And  he  was  suc- 
ceeded by  James,  the  brother  of  Our  Lord.  In  the 
home  mission,  therefore,  John  was  subordinate; 
nor  is  he  mentioned  as  a  foreign  evangelist. 
Barnabas,  and  Timothy,  and  Luke,  and  Silas,  and 
Mark  appear  with  Paul,  and  there  are  many  others, 
but  not  John.  Yet  he  and  he  alone  is  called  "  the 
divine." 

339 


340  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

What  was  it  that  John  thus  achieved?  Among 
the  friends  of  Jesus,  he  was,  perhaps,  the  youngest. 
In  physique  he  was  a  splendid  fisher-lad,  who  could 
outrun  Peter  to  the  empty  tomb — whose  eyesight 
was  so  keen  that,  in  the  dim  light  of  dawn,  he  was 
able  to  tell  Peter  Who  it  was,  standing  there  on 
the  shore.  Blessed  with  superb  health,  he  lived 
until  he  was  nearly  a  hundred,  and  never  was  his 
vision  clearer  than  towards  the  end,  when  he  saw 
fan  open  door  in  heaven  itself.  If  we  call  him  "  the 
[divine,"  it  is  because  we  realize  that  what  men  are 
\n  themselves  is  more  than  what  they  do  for  others. 
To  be  noble  is  the  only  true  success.  As  a  system, 
Christ's  love  and  wisdom  have  yet  to  be  applied 
but,  as  a  Character,  many  have  made  Him  their  ex- 
ample. St.  John  the  Divine  is  the  first  of  the  long 
line  of  men  and  women,  commonly  unmentioned  in 
history,  who  live  a  usual  life,  in  an  unusual  manner, 
bringing  into  it  the  quality  called  piety — a  sense 
of  God — a  firm  conviction  that  when  all  the  theo- 
logians and  philosophers  and  scientists  have  ex- 
hausted their  polysyllables,  when  all  the  statesmen 
and  generals  and  admirals  have  wrecked  and 
ruined  and  restored  human  happiness  with  their 
stupendous  wisdom  and  folly,  there  remains  for  me 
but  one  conclusion,  that  "  God  is  Love." 

John  was  not  always  thus.  His  father  was  a  man 
of  means  who  hired  servants.  At  Jerusalem,  he 
mixed  in  the  most  exclusive  priestly  circles.  His 
mother  believed  him  to  be  a  much  more  reliable 
man  than  Peter  and  asked  that  he  and  his  brother 
James  should  be  the  accepted  Cardinal  Princes  of 
the  Church.  To  these  ambitions  John  responded. 
Among  the  apostles  he  and  James  were  the  only 


THE  BEATIFIC  VISION  341 

natural  orators  and  Our  Saviour,  with  the  deUcate 
irony  which  I,  for  one,  find  so  fascinating, — the 
irony  of  one  who  spoke  as  no  other  man  ever 
spake — gave  them  a  kind  of  nickname,  Boanerges, 
the  sons  of  thunder.  If  a  village  did  not  accept  the 
faith,  they  would  play  Mahomet's  part  and  call 
down  fire  upon  it  as  punishment.  In  their  gospel 
there  was  always  plenty  of  hell.  If  they  had  com- 
manded the  disciples,  one  knows  not  quite  what 
excesses  might  have  been  committed.  John  was  of 
the  very  stuff  that  makes  an  honest  inquisitor— a 
pitiless  but  convinced  persecutor.  He  that  doeth  evil, 
said  he,  hath  not  seen  God.  If  there  come  any  unto  you 
and  bring  not  this  doctrine,  receive  him  not  into  your 
house,  neither  hid  him  Godspeed,  for  he  that  biddeth  him 
Godspeed  is  partaker  of  his  evil  deeds.  And  again — if 
a  man  say,  I  love  God  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar. 
No  man  has  ever  hit  harder  than  that  and  any 
man,  thus  hitting  out,  has  been  born  with  a  danger- 
ous temperament. 

What  saved  John  from  the  fate  and  cruelty  of  a 
Zealot  was  his  first  impression  of  the  Saviour.  He 
was  with  Andrew,  the  earliest  of  all  the  men  who, 
as  it  were,  discovered  the  Messiah.  Listening  to 
the  Baptist,  he  had  gained  the  idea  that  rehgion 
was  righteousness,  duty,  repentance,  but  in  Jesus 
he  saw  the  Lamb  of  God,  the  Sufferer,  the  One 
Who  when  brought  to  the  slaughter  renounces 
power  and  even  speech.  When  John  and  Andrew 
spent  their  first  memorable  yet  unrevealed  evening 
with  Our  Lord,  not  one  miracle  had  been  worked — 
not  one  parable  had  been  uttered.  It  was  the 
Christ  of  common  life  that  captured  them.  And  it 
is  interesting  to  note  that  as  John  left  public  duty 


34:2  THE  CHUKCH  WE  FORGET 

to  James,  so  did  Andrew  stand  aside  for  Peter. 
The  brothers  who  came  to  Christ  first  were  the 
brothers  who  in  later  years  were  the  readiest  to 
efface  themselves. 

The  jealousy  of  Peter  which  was  entertained  by 
these  brilliantly  gifted  sons  of  Zebedee, — their 
desire  to  be  greatest — did  not  survive  the  last  sup- 
per, when  Jesus  drew  John  to  Himself  and  filled 
him  with  the  knowledge,  which  for  all  time  to  come 
dominated  his  being, — that  he  was  the  disciple 
whom  Jesus  loved.  That  love  was  his  inheritance 
and  it  brought  him  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross  itself. 
There  stood  Mary,  Mother  of  the  Crucified, — 
Maiden,  and  Wife — the  representative  woman  of 
the  new  kingdom,  yet  weeping.  By  that  time  she 
must  have  been  older  than  fifty  years,  and  it  was 
to  John  that  she  was  committed,  as  Our  Saviour's 
only  legacy.  How  he  maintained  her,  resigning 
from  other  and  more  prominent  tasks,  we  can 
gather  from  the  obscurity  which  settles  over  his 
personal  activities.  Only  at  Patmos  does  he 
emerge,  and  then  as  an  exile. 

That  Jesus  should  not  have  entrusted  His  Mother 
to  her  sons,  James  and  Jude,  but  to  John,  who  was 
nearest  to  Him  in  His  agony,  will  hardly  surprise 
anybody  who  considers  that  it  is  sympathy,  not  re- 
lationship which  often  unites  a  household.  Doubt- 
less blood  is  thicker  than  water,  but  blood  is  not 
enough.  The  stranger  who  believed  in  her  Son 
was  more  to  the  Mother  than  the  brethren  who  had 
thought  Him  insane.  And  it  was  through  Mary 
that  John  worked  out  that  amazing  Fourth  Gospel, 
in  which,  with  the  most  particular  details  of  Our 
Lord's  manhood,  he  showed 'the  gradual  outshining 


THE  BEATIFIC  VISION  343 

of  His  Godhead.  In  this  companionship  of  adopted 
son  and  spiritual  foster-mother  lies  the  secret  of 
the  tender  reticence  with  which  John  handles  the 
birth  of  the  Saviour.  There  were  certain  matters 
which,  as  it  were,  could  only  be  written  by  an  out- 
sider. And  these  he  left  for  Matthew  and  Luke. 
But — if  I  were  out  for  contention — I  should  here 
remark  that  I  can  imagine  no  stronger  implied  tes- 
timony to  what  was  told  by  Matthew  and  Luke  than 
this — that  John,  writing  later  than  they,  after  the 
most  intimate  access  to  the  facts,  and  anxious  above 
all  else  to  establish  the  truth  that  Jesus  had  been 
undoubtedly  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood  like  ourselves, 
should  have  acquiesced  in  conviction  that  His  only 
Father  was  the  Eternal  God.  John  had  heard 
Jesus — had  seen  Him  with  his  eyes — had  gazed 
upon  Him — had  even  held  Him  with  his  hands — re- 
clining on  His  bosom — yet  knew  Him  to  be  the 
Word  of  life — which  was  from  the  beginning. 

All  that  survives  of  these  disciples  is  a  fragment. 
From  the  one  bone  scholarship  seeks  to  reconstruct 
the  entire  skeleton  and  to  clothe  it  with  flesh  and 
blood,  or  even  to  show  that,  given  such  a  bone,  no 
skeleton  could  ever  have  existed.  I  do  not  know 
for  certain,  nor  does  any  one  else,  and  no  erudition 
will  ever  discover  whether  St.  John  the  Divine 
wrote  the  second  letter,  attributed  to  him,  and,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  the  first  and  the  third.  But  it  is 
at  least  significant  that,  of  all  the  epistles,  this  alone 
should  have  been  addressed  to  a  lady — to  an  elect 
lady — a  chosen  lady — a  princess  of  faith — a  queen 
of  heaven,  living  on  earth  as  a  mother  of  children 
and  sister  to  every  mother.  Other  women  of  the 
early  Church  are  named — Dorcas  and  Damaris  and 


344  THE  CHURCH  WE  FORGET 

Lydia  and  Priscilla;  this  elect  lady  is  universal,  the 
hostess  who  sets  a  standard  in  society,  whose  chil- 
dren walk  in  the  truth,  whose  influence  is  the  real 
bulwark  against  deceit  and  error.  Was  she  actually 
the  Mother  of  Our  Lord?  She  may  have  been. 
That  is  the  natural  assumption.  And  John  wrote 
no  longer  as  "  an  apostle  "  but  as  ''  an  elder  " — as 
**  your  brother  and  companion  in  tribulation."  In 
him,  as  years  passed,  humility  triumphed. 

To  Gains  also  did  he  write.  Was  he  Gains,  the 
man  of  Macedonia  and  friend  of  Aristarchus?  I  do 
not  know.  And  was  this  man  Gains  of  Corinth? 
Again,  who  can  say?  For  Gains  is  the  Greek  form 
of  Caius — like  Smyth  for  Smith — and  what  Smith  is 
in  England,  what  Jones  is  in  Wales,  what  Murphy 
is  in  Ireland  and  what  McAnything  is  in  Scotland, 
that  Caius  was  in  the  Roman  Empire.  John  thus 
wrote  to  Friend  Smith,  to  wish  him  good  health, 
to  thank  him  for  his  loyal  assistance,  to  recommend 
one  Demetrius  and  to  discourage  another  Diotre- 
phes — child  of  Zeus — the  latest  of  the  Boanerges — 
who  wanted  preeminence  and  was  apt  to  slight  an 
original  apostle  that  was  content  to  be  called  a 
mere  elder,  deacon,  local  preacher. 

For  of  all  the  disciples,  St.  John  the  Divine,  by 
living  the  longest,  bore  the  worst  brunt  of  what  we 
call  the  failure  of  Christianity.  To  him,  world  was 
world,  flesh  was  flesh,  and  devil  was  devil,  and 
neither  of  the  three  would  change.  There  was 
and  would  continue  unto  the  last  to  be  that 
among  men  which  was  not  of  the  Father — which 
was  contrary  to  the  traditions  of  home — which  was 
rebelHon  against  brotherhood — and  this  wickedness 
had   simply   to   be   overcome.     Not   overcome   by 


THE  BEATIFIC  VISION  345 

systems  and  theories  and  policies,  but  absolutely 
overcome,  here  and  now,  by  the  individual, — trod- 
den under  foot.  When  the  Church  attracted  only 
the  few,  John  was  not  surprised.  The  multitude 
which  knew  not  Christ  could  scarcely  be  better 
acquainted  with  Christ's  followers.  If  you  believe 
in  the  Son  of  God,  you  have  the  witness,  not  in  the 
institutions  which  surround  you,  not  in  parliaments 
or  synods  or  armies  or  navies,  but  in  yourself. 
Apart  from  the  Son  of  God,  there  is  no  life  worth 
living;  no  eternal  life;  there  is  no  existence,  activ- 
ity, struggle,  strife,  rivalry,  achievement,  but — as 
for  that — the  whole  world  Heth  in  wickedness. 
John  was  not  dismayed  at  this — it  was  his  own 
assertion. 

With  a  dozen  million  men  and  women  and  chil- 
dren dead  of  war,  massacre,  hunger  and  plague, 
with  scores  of  millions  ruined  in  body,  mind  or 
estate,  with  vast  areas  of  the  earth  hitherto  reck- 
oned as  civilized  now  reduced  to  anarchy  and  chaos, 
and  with  no  certainty  as  yet  that  the  vials  of  wrath 
are  even  yet  empty  whether  on  land  or  sea,  who  of 
us,  fairly  facing  the  facts,  can  deny  that  John  told 
and  still  tells  the  stern  truth?  In  his  case,  the 
marvel  is  that,  with  a  mind  full  of  the  materials  for 
pessimism,  he  yet  remained  through  it  all  confi- 
dent, hopeful,  triumphant.  From  beginning  to 
end  of  what  he  wrote,  there  is  no  suggestion  that 
Christ's  is  a  losing  cause  or  that  John  of  Patmos  is 
a  beaten  man.  Nor  did  he  despair  of  civilization. 
His  was  not  the  cry  that  puts  back  the  clock — 
back  to  the  Land — the  village — the  simple  life. 
He  believed  in  the  city.  He  loved  the  crowded 
street.     He  revelled  in  solemn  and  stirring  music. 


346     THE  CHUUCH  WE  FORGET 

He  drank  deeply  at  the  river  of  the  water  which 
flowed  by  men's  feet.  It  is  not  on  this  closing  page 
that  I  can  so  much  as  outline,  however  briefly,  the 
splendid  and  often  sombre  vistas  of  human  experi- 
ence which  are  revealed  in  the  Apocalypse  of  St. 
John.  That  theme — if  at  all — must  be  reserved 
for  a  future  occasion,  a  fuller  treatment.  But  as  I 
read  of  those  gates,  welcoming  within  the  walls  of 
the  Holy  Jerusalem  men  and  women  of  all  na- 
tions, to  share  one  noble  life,  in  the  Presence  of 
One  Glorious  Majesty, — young  and  old,  rich  and 
poor,  intermingling  freely,  without  offense — I  ask 
myself  where,  in  all  literature,  modern  or  ancient, 
I  shall  find  a  panorama  of  idealism,  outshining  with 
such  magnificent  detail,  yet  illuminated  by  so  defi- 
nite a  central  principle.  It  is  not  that  our  rail- 
roads and  aeroplanes  and  steamships  and  all  the 
other  wonders  of  our  modern  civilization  are  a 
mistake.  This  John  would  never  have  said.  Let 
them  develop.  May  they  be  multiplied.  If  the 
day  is  to  dawn  when  the  City  is  to  become,  like  the 
Church,  the  Bride  of  Christ,  who  would  impoverish 
by  one  jewel  the  lustre  of  her  raiment?  But  the 
pavilion  over  her  must  be  love.  There  must  be 
around  her  some  other  virtue  than  wealth  and 
power  and  success.  In  her  midst,  there  must  arise 
a  throne  which  no  man  occupies  and  no  nation  sup- 
ports,— before  which  all  must  bow  the  knee.  That 
throne  is  Love — not  in  the  abstract — but  in  a  per- 
son— a  Person  Who  has  tasted  death  itself, — a 
Lamb,  slain  from  the  foundations  of  the  world, 
Whose  blood  mingles  with  our  own,  while  we  cry, 
Worthy  is  He  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and 
wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and 


THE  BEATIFIC  VISION  847 

blessing.  The  little  company  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  lonely  people  at  the  old  Jerusalem,  starting 
their  mission  with  Peter  in  the  midst,  passes  forth 
into  secular  history,  persecuted,  perplexed,  yet  per- 
sistent, claiming  proudly  that  their  Jesus  is  King  of 
Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords,  the  Alpha  and  the 
Omega  in  the  letters  of  our  language,  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  the  otherwise  incoherent  drama, 
the  unknown  First  and  the  undiscoverable  Last, 
Whose  grace,  here  and  now,  is  with  you  all. 
Amen, 


INDEX 

This  index  does  not  give  the  references  to  Our  Lord — which  are  in- 
numerable. The  aim  has  been  to  show,  not  only  the  allusions  to  the  Bible, 
but  t/i£  many  references  to  modern  events  and  persons. 


Aaron,  io6 

Abel,  23 

Abraham,  23,  51,  1 10,  197 

Aceldama,  38 

Achaia,  32,  49,  236 

Achan,  48 

Achiacus,  223 

Adramyttium,  305 

^gean,  185,  257,  305 

iEneas,  76 

Aeroplane,  faith  like,  62 

Africa,  49,  109 

Agabus,  155,  185-186,  259,  261 

Agrippa  II,  272;  Paul  before, 

296-303 
Agrippina,  281 
Alexander,     Herodian    Prince, 

297 
Alexander     the     Coppersmith, 

240,  328 
Alexander  the  Great,  183 
Alexandria,    49,    56,    109,    112, 

221,  ^zz.  305 

Altar  to  Unknown  God,  210 
Anaesthetics,  317 
Ananias  of  Damascus,  132-137 
Ananias     (High     Priest),    88, 

274,  278,  279,  288 
Ananias    the    disciple,    19,    29, 

41,  48,  66,  71,  l^y  97-103,  120, 

339 
Anathema  Maranatna,  27 
Anarchy,  44,  45 
Andrew,  341 
Andromeda,  195 


Anglican  Church,  16 

Anointing  sick,  84 

Anthems,  222 

Anti-Christ,  248 

Antioch  in  Pisidia,  152,  165, 
168 

Antioch  in  Syria,  31,  47,  49, 
106,  115,  116,  139,  142,  150, 
162,  332;  contrast  with  Jeru- 
salem, 151-161;  Peter  at,  18 

Antiquity,  note  of,  49 

Antipas,  296 

Antipater,  297 

Appeal  to  Caesar,  294-295 

Apollos,  221,  233;  founds  no 
denomination,  15;  preaching 
unreported,  43;  studies  at 
Alexandria,  49 ;  withdraws 
from  Corinth,  28 

Apostles  cling  to  Jerusalem, 
115;  twelve  chosen,  46 

Apostolic  succession,  45,  51 

Aquila,  31,  195,  215,  216,  2ZZ, 
320 

Arabia,  50,  74,  i39,  IS4,  i73 

Architecture,  319 

Areopagus   (See  Mars  Hill) 

Aretas,  King  of  Damascus, 
127,  297,  301 

Aristarchus,  304,  327 

Aristobulus,  Asmonean  prince, 
17,  297 

Aristobulus,    High  Priest,  297 

Aristotle,  206 

Armenia,  64,  125,  132 


348 


INDEX 


349 


Armenian  Church,  i6 
Armenians,  massacres  in,  2^^ 
Asher,  47 
Asia,     64,     112,     185;     seven 

churches  of,  20,  22^2 
Asia  Minor,  305 
Assos,  254,  261 
Astrology,  25 
Athens,  26,  31,  39,  56,  91.  II5. 

184,  185,  188;  Mars  Hill,  12; 

no  miracle  at,  %z\   Paul  at, 

206-213;  philosophy  of,  17 
Atlantic  Cables,  249 
Atonement,  Day  of,  306 
Atonement    ignored    by   Jews, 

54 
Aviators,  courage  of,  186 
Azotus,  124 

Babei.,  54,  59 

Babylon,  17,  34,  88 

Balaam,  27 

Baptism,  31,  137,  141,  149,  162; 
of  eunuch,  123-124 

Baptists,  16 

Barabbas,  196 

Barbarians,  16 

Bar-Jesus   (See  Elymas) 

Barnabas,  31,  47,  76,  116,  139, 
155,  236,  284,  328,  339;  at 
Lystra,  10,  28;  difference 
with  Paul,  18;  sells  estates, 
49,  71;  sent  to  Antioch,  153; 
settles  at  Paphos,  182;  tour 
with  Paul,  162-171 

Barsabas  (See  Joseph  so  sur- 
named) 

Bastille,  157,  199 

Beautiful  Gate,  92 

Belloc,  57 

Benedictines,  15 

Benjamin  the  Colonist,  47 

Benjamin,  tribe  of,  50 

Berea,  26,  185,  206,  207 

Berenice,  296,  297,  299,  303 

Bethlehem,  86,  298 

Bible,  reverence  for,  62 

Bishops — or  overseers,  12,  46 

Bithynia,  64 

Black  Hand,  Russia,  283 


Boanerges,  341,  344 
Bolshevists,    ^2,    147,    167,   198, 

218,  269,  308,  312 
Bond  and  Free,  16 
Bourbons,  199,  283,  294 
Bourgeoisie,  99 
Brewery  shares,  71 
Britain,  86;  labour  in,  35 
Brotherhood,  169,  174 
Buddhists,   105,    174,    196,   211, 

Bulgarian  and  Serbian,  145 
Bunyan  at  Bedford,  213 
Bureaucracy,  282 
Busybodies,  19 
Butler,  Josephine,  193 

Caesar,  320;  appeal  to,  294- 
295 

Caesarea,  17,  56,  139,  I53,  I57, 
161,  186,  259,  263;  amphi- 
theatre at,  30;  home  of  Cor- 
nelius, 141;  Paul  taken  to, 
284-286;  Paul  tried  at,  291- 
303;  Philip  lives  at,  I2i,  124 

Cain,  27 

Calvin,  162 

Cambridge,  206 

Cana,  marriage  at,  64 

Canaan,  no 

Can  dace,  122 

Cappadocia,  64 

Cardinals,  49,  339 

Carpenter,  Estlin,  34 

Castor,  317-318 

Cavell,  Edith,  263 

Celibacy,   19 

Cenchrea,  91,  177,  195 

Ceremonial,  174 

Chalmers,  49 

Chamberlain,  Joseph,  and  Ran- 
som, 99 

Charran,  no 

Chicago  of  Greece,  214 

Chief  Captain  at  Jerusalem, 
276 

China,  146,  211,  233,  309 

Chloe,  223 

Christian  armour,  238 

Christian  Science,  ^'& 


350 


INDEX 


Christopher  Columbus,  183 
Cilicia,  109,  112,  142 
Circumcision,  28,  87,   165,  339; 

quarrel  over,  172-181 
Citizenship  of  Paul,  277 
City  of  God,  47,  176,  346 
Clauda,  309 

Claudius,  Emperor,  215 
Claudius  Lysias,  281-283,  291 
Cnidus,  305 
Coldstreams,  304 
Colosse,  25,  235,  326;  letter  to, 

39,  227         ,  ^,    .    .     . 

Commerce  and  Christianity,  143 

Conciergerie,  199 

Confirmation,  12 

Confucius,  174,  196,  211 

Congo,  rubber  horrors  in,  277 

Congregationalists,   16 

Coos,  259 

Corinth,  185,  187,  188,  235 ;  col- 
lections at,  73;  conquerors 
at,  37;  gossip  at,  19,  195; 
its  race-course,  30;  letters  to, 
43,  45,  179,  211,  225,  228; 
Paul  at,  214-220;  scandals 
at,  16,  221-230;  spiritual  gifts 
at,  66 

Cornelius  of  Cassarea,  17, 
28,  56,  72,  133,  134,  161; 
story  of,   141-149 

Creeds,  123 

Crescens,  327 

Crete,  305,  306,  308,  317,  327 

Crispus,  216,  219;  baptized,  13 

Cyprus,  13,  61,  139,  153,  176, 
182,  259,  263,  284;  apostles 
visit,  164-168;  home  of  Bar- 
nabas, 18 

Cyrene,  31,  109,  112 

Czardom,  198 

Dai^ai-Lama,  105 

Dalmatia,  327 

Damaris,  189,  212,  213,  343 

Damascus,    30,    124,    297,   301; 

Paul  at,  125-139 
Damocles,  329 
Dan,  46 
Daniel,  33 


Danton,  37,  57 

Dardanelles,  185,  305 

Darwin,  239 

David,  23,  46,  260 

Deacons  appointed,  29,  104 

Demetrius,  72,  240,  344 

Democracy,   174 

Demoniac  girl  at  Philippi,  192- 

197 
Derbe,  127,  165,  171 
Devil,  97 

Diana,  goddess,  72,  93,  238,  240 
Die  Hards,  283 
Diocesan  Council,  253 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  189, 

212,  213 
Diotrephes,  344 
Dominicans,   15 
Dorcas,  9,  76,  343 
Drusilla,  288,  290,  297,  298,  301, 

318 

Early  Christians,  called  Naz- 
arenes,  8;  one  family,  18; 
read  Old  Testament,  24 

Early  Church,  absence  of 
relics,  55;  altars  and  bap- 
tisteries, 13;  and  Heaven, 
36;  and  military  service,  88; 
and  Second  Coming,  242- 
244;  baptism  in,  31;  con- 
tained few  linguists,  54;  dea- 
cons appointed,  104-106;  en- 
joys rest,  140;  few  in  num- 
bers, 8,  17;  five  thousand 
converts  for,  30;  happiness 
of,  31;  honest  in  trade,  75; 
humility  and  dignity  of,  27; 
informal  conversation  in,  65; 
last  conclave  at  Jerusalem, 
264;  laying  on  hands,  106- 
107,  118^119,  234;  miracles 
in,  76-85;  no  architecture  in, 
12;  no  canonization,  10;  no 
creed  or  catechism,  11;  no 
denominations,  15;  no  geo- 
graphical title,  16 ;  no  masses, 
22;  no  prayers  for  dead,  23; 
no  vestments,  9;  numbers 
five  thousand,  90;  one  body. 


INDEX 


351 


i6,  19,  20;  persecution  of, 
86-94;  popular  at  first,  30; 
power  of,  37;  quarrel  over 
circumcision,  171-182;  reads 
Old  Testament,  68;  scattered 
abroad,  114-115;  simple  vo- 
cabular}^,  11;  spontaneous 
extension  of,  30;  three 
thousand  converts  to,  21 ; 
theory  of  property,  68-75; 
used  short  words,  66;  va- 
riety of,  16 

Egypt  and  death,  211 

Egypt,  sorceries  of,  27;  strike 
in,  74 

Elamites,  16,  49 

Elders,  217;  Ephesian,  say 
farewell  to  Paul,  256-257 

Elect  lady,  20,  25 

Elymas,  61,  165-167 

Emerson,  206 

Epaphras,  327 

Epaphroditus,  84,  317,  324,  325, 

327 

Ephesus,  21,  33,  72,  109,  115, 
118,  252,  261,  304,  307,  327, 
328;  church  founded  at,  231- 
241 ;  curious  arts  at,  61 ; 
Diana  worship,  30;  elders  of, 
217;  elders'  farewell  to  Paul, 
256-257;  idolatry  of,  17;  lose 
first  love,  19;  Nicolaitines  at, 
15;  Paul's  letter  to,  36; 
twelve  Baptists  at,  56 

Epicurus,  206,  208 

Episcopalians,  16,  141 

Episcopacy,  162 

Erastus,  221 

Ermine  and  velvet,  283 

Esau,  299 

Esquimau,  183 

Ethical  Society,  56 

Ethiopia,  savagery  of,  17 

Ethiopian  eunuch,  13,  32,  121- 
124,  140,  143 

Euclid,  42 

Eunice,  49,  56,  195 

Euroclydon,  26 

Eutychus,  19,  76,  255 

Evangelicals,  162 


Exodus,  52 
Ezekiel,  189 
Ezra,  260 

Fair  Havens,  306,  308 

Falstaff,  209 

Fasting,  143 

Fees  for  preaching,  70 

Felix,  II,  91,  294,  318;  trial 
before,  281-290 

Festus,  87,  272,  281,  300,  301, 
303;  Paul  before,  291-295 

Festus  trembles,  32 

Fifth  Avenue,  134 

Fire,  24 

Flagellation,  131 

Flying  across  Atlantic,  184 

Fortunatus,  223 

Forum,  174,  320 

Fourth  of  July,  52 

Fox,  George,  162 

Foxe,  Book  of  Martyrs,  329 

France,  chateaux  of,  92;  fight- 
ing for,  64 

Franciscans,  15 

Free  traders,  308 

Frenchmen  and  Germans,  145 

Friends,  Society  of,  335 

Fry,  Elizabeth,  198 

Funeral  of  Stephen,  114 

Gad,  46 

Gaius  of  Corinth,  221;  bap- 
tized, 13 

Gaius  (the  name),  344 

Galatia,  19,  38,  64,  150,  175, 
214,  235 ;  a  diocese,  16 ;  let- 
ter to,  155,  173,  181,  244,  299, 
323,  324;  ritualism  at,  16; 
superstitions    of,    17 

Galilean  dialect,  24 

Galileans,  54 

Galilee,  153 

Gallio,  32,  91,  218,  219,  220 

Gamaliel,  28,  43,  50,   126,   129, 

154 

Gaza,  116,  122;  baptism  at,  13 

General  Councils,  45 

Gentiles,  300;  and  circumci- 
sion, 28;   at  Antioch  in  Pi- 


352 


INDEX 


sidia,  170;  eating  with,   18; 

meaning  of  word,  274,  275 
Germans  and  Frenchmen,  145 
Germany,  96,  198;  and  Luther, 

273 
Gethsemane,  83,  146,  260 
Gettysburg,  52,  239 
Girton,  212 
Gladstone,  162,  198 
Gomorrah,  27,  338 
Gordon,  Lord  George,  268 
Gospel,    orderly   preaching   of, 

45;  at  Corinth,  19 
Grecian  proselytes,  137 
Grecian  widows,  18 
Greek  Church,   16 
Greeks  and  Jews,  16 
Grenadiers,  304 
Grenfell,  49 
Guildhall  Banquet,  148 

Habeas  Corpus  Act,  199 

Hagar,  299 

Hair  shirt,  131 

Halo,  22 

Hananiah,  100 

Hannah,   197 

Harvard,  206 

Harvest  thanksgivings,  55 

Hastings,  Warren,  293-294 

Hebrew  language,  271,  273 

Hebrews,  letter  to,  39,  74,  84, 

331 

Hebrew  widows,   18 

Henry  VHI,  302 

Herbert,  George,  230 

Heresy,  the  first,  40 

Herod  Agrippa  I,  30,  339;  his 
death,  26,  31,  98 

Herod  Agrippa  H,  196;  al- 
most persuaded,  32;  his 
palace,  12;  ladies  of  court, 
17 

Herod  Antipas,  154 

Herod  family,  198;  record  of, 
297,  298 

Herod  Philip,  297 

Herod  the  Great,  297,  298,  299 

Herodias,  154,  297 

Hezekiah,  260 


High  Priest   (See  Ananias) 

Hindus,  211,  273,  309 

Holborn,  134 

Hohness  conferences,  60 

Holy  Communion,  107 

Holy  Inquisition,  138 

Holy  Spirit  grieved,  24;  helps 

man  in  street,  62 
Hood,  Tom,  193 
Hospitals,  62,  329 
Howard,  John,  198 
Huguenot,  268 
Huss,  162 
Hypochondria,  131 
Hyrcanus,  298 

IcoNiUM,  57,  127,  165,  171,  195, 

218 
Idolatry,  33 

Idols,  meats  offered  to,  180 
India,  146,  198,  233 
Individualism,  69 
Indus,  183 
Intonation,  149 
Ireland,  125 
Isaac,  197,  299 
Isaiah,  iii,  123,  210,  311,  323 
Ishmael,  299 
Islam,  174,  196 
Issachar,  46 

Jacob,  197,  299 

Jacobin,  312 

Jailer  at  Philippi,  202-205 

Jambres,  27 

James  the  Great,  260,  297,  339, 

340;  martyred,  22,   151,  156; 

refused  preeminence,  87 
James   the   Less,  28,  264,  343; 

and   rich,  9,   72;   brother  of 

Lord,  161 ;  letter  by,  74 ;  on 

labour,    33;    on    works,    18; 

presides    over    church,    179; 

treatment  of  sick,  84 
Jannes,  27 
Japan,  146 
Jeremiah,  100 
Jericho,  ark  at,  157 
Jerusalem,    307;    a    theological 

seminary,    206;     citadel     at, 


INDEX 


363 


12;  contrast  with  Antioch, 
151-161 ;  desired  primacy, 
177;  famine  at,  155;  feuds 
at,  280;  lame  man  at,  94; 
Paul  seized  at,  266;  Paul's 
trial  at,  270-290;  poverty  of 
disciples,  18;  temple  and 
castle,  270,  271 ;  troubles  in, 
322-323;   upper   room  at,   17, 

23 

Jews  and  Greeks,  16 

Jews  expelled  from  Rome, 
195,  215 

Jezebel  (at  Thyatira),  19,  253 

Joanna,  17 

Joel's  prophecy,  62,  63 

John  the  Baptist,  41,  56,  154, 
234,  297,  301,  341 ;  his  girdle, 
142 

John  the  Divine  and  civil 
power,  88;  and  eternal  city, 
23,  34;  and  hospitality,  20, 
25;  and  lame  man,  76;  de- 
nounces Nicolaitines,  15 ;  faces 
Sanhedrin,  37 ;  goes  to  Sa- 
maria, 118;  his  salt  mine,  13; 
his  writings,  339-347;  letters 
of,  331 ;  refused  preeminence, 
87;  silence  on  miracles,  80; 
vision  of  heaven,  24 

Jonah,  310,  311 

Jonathan,  48 

Joppa,  70,  76,  142-149,  153 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,   17 

Joseph  surnamed  Barsabas,  47 

Joseph  the  patriarch,  47,  no 

Joshua,  106 

Judah,  46 

Judaizers,  19,  28,  150,  152,  176- 
182,  323;  at  Philadelphia, 
175;  in  Galatia,  175 

Judas  Iscariot,  26,  46;  suicide 
of,  38 

Judas  of  Damascus,  133 

Judas  of  Galilee,  28,  43,  86 

jude.  27,  337,  338,  343 

Jude,  warnings  by,  20,  25 

Judea,  149;  poverty  of  dis- 
ciples, TZ',  reaction  in,  115 

Julius,  centurion,  304,  307,  320 


Jupiter,  30 
Justus,  216,  219 

Kaiser,  248 

Keys,  power  of,  175 

Korah,  27 

Koran,  211 

Korea,  151,  198,  232,  233 

Kurdish  mercenaries,  268 

Labour  in  Britain,  35 

Labrador,  49 

Lame   man   of    Jerusalem,   76, 

94 

Laodicea,  19,  21,  235;  wealth 
of,  73 

Lasea,  306,  307,  308 

Latimer,  206 

Latin  liturgies,  66,  173,  222 

Laying  on  hands,  106,  107,  I18, 
119,  234 

Lawyers,  286 

Lenine,  239 

Leprosy,  78 

Lettres  de  Cachet,  127 

Levant,  141 

Levi,  46 

Leviticus,  188 

Libertines,  109,  112 

Livingstone,  49,  141 

Lois,  56,  195 

Lollards,  169 

London,   329 

Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  302 

Louis  XIV,  302 

Lourdes,  237 

Louvain,  library  of,  92 

Lucius  of  Cyrene,  154 

Luke,  70,  116,  184,  194,  257, 
283,  304,  306,  317,  320,  321, 
323,  328,  339 ;  accuracy  of,  25  ; 
and  "  ihe  Acts,"  56;  at 
Rome,  18;  his  ancestry,  65; 
his  Gospel,  328;  his  medical 
training,  26,  77 ;  notes  Paul's 
eyesight,  278-279;  testifies  to 
Paul's  miracles,  42 

Lumber  camp,  174 

Luther,  162,  206,  27Z°,  and 
Germany,  27 z 


354 


INDEX 


Lutherans,  15 
Lycaonia,  30 
Lydda,  76 

Lydia,  72,  189,  191,  192,  344 
Li'nch  law,  199 
Lynching,  127 
Lysias  (See  Claudius) 
L3-stra,   26,   28,   39,  49,   76,   82, 
89,  127,  165,  171 

Macedonia,  232,  261,  327;  man 
of,  188-190 

Madagascar,  151 

Mahomet,  341 

Mails,  62 

Malachi,  T>> 

Malta,  76,  31S-318,  328 

Mammon,  196,  299 

Manaen,   154 

Manna,  53,  93 

Mariamne,  297,  298 

Mark,  John,  12,  28,  154,  159, 
236,  284,  327,  339;  and  Paul, 
18,  Gospel  of,  77-78;  his  char- 
acter, 176-177:  his  irresolu- 
tion, 19;  leaves  Paul,  181,  182 

Marriage,  89 

Mars  Hill,  56,  209,  265 

Marx,  Karl,  239 

Mary  of  Magdala,  17,  19 

Mary,  mother  of  Mark,  12,  159 

Mary  of  Nazareth,  17,  95,  342, 

343 
Masses,  22 

Master  and  servant,  T>)y  74 
Matthew^  the  publican,  17 
Matthias,  48,  106 
Meats  offered  to  idols,  180 
Medcs,  16,  65 
Mediterranean,  305 ;  commerce 

upon,  246 
Mercier,  Cardinal,  263 
Mercury,  30 
Mesopotamia,  338 
Mesopotamians,  16,  49 
Methodism,  162,  169 
Methodist  Conference,  253 
Michael  the  Archangel,  27 
Microscope,  247,  249 
Middle  Ages,  249 


Midian,  1 10 
Miletus,  84,  237,  255 
Military  service,  88 
Millennium,  date  of,  243 
Miracles,  42,  62,  76-85 
Mitylene,  252 
Mnason,  263,  284 
Mohammedans,  211 
Monasticism,  231 
Mood3%  273,  302 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  34 
Moriah,  261 
Moses,  27,  106,  no 
Moslems,     secret     conversions 

among,  91 
Moslem  sects,  15 
Mott,  J.  R.,  206 
Mourning,  22 
Myra,  305 
Mysticism,  231 

Naaman,  33 

Naphtali,  the  journalist,  47 

Naples,  dungeons  at,  198 

Napoleon,  199 

Nazarenes,  Christians  called,  8 

Nazarite  vow,  28,  91 

Neapolis,  190 

Negro,  309 

Nelson,  329 

Nero,  88,  281,  294,  328 

New  Guinea,  49 

New  York,  329 

Newgate,  198 

Newman,  206  ' 

Newnham,  212 

Newspapers,  135 

Newspapers,  rubbish  in,  275 

Newton's  Principia,  220 

Nicodemus,  17,  18,  91 

Nicolaitines,  237,  252 

Nicolaitines  at  Ephesus,  15 

Nicolas,  106 

Nicolas  the  deacon,  252 

Nihilists,  201 

Ninth  hour,  05 

Novels,  331 

Oil  for  sick,  84 
Old  and  new,  172 


INDEX 


355 


Old  Testament,  no,  311 
Olives,  Mount  of,  257 
Omar  Khayyam,  T] 
Onesimus,   Phrygian  slave,   17, 

zz,  1^,  325-328 

Orontes,   River,    163 
Oxford,  206,  207 

Paphos,  ZZ,  182 

Paris,  mob  of,  169 

Parliaments,  Zl 

Parthians,  16,  49,  65 

Patara,  259 

Patmos,  247 

Paul,  339;  a  Benjamite,  65,  91; 
a  born  traveller,  141 ;  a  He- 
brew of  Hebrews,  91 ;  a 
Pharisee,  91,  125,  178;  a 
tent-maker,  215;  agrees  Xo 
vow,  265;  and  Christ, 
trials  compared,  279;  and 
Colossians,  25;  and  Cy- 
prus, 31 ;  and  Eutychus,  76, 
255;  and  Gamaliel,  154;  and 
Hebrew  language,  271 ;  and 
Lydia's  dye-house,  ^2\  and 
Nero,  88 ;  and  Stephen's_  ad- 
dress, 274 ;  and  Thessalonians, 
25;  and  Trophimus,  93;  and 
womanhood,  I93-I97;  anx- 
ious for  others,  84;  appeals 
to  Caesar,  294-295;  appointed 
missionary,  47;  as  traveller, 
183-184;  at  Corinth,  187;  at 
Lystra,  28,  76;  at  Philippi, 
187,  191-205;  at  Rome,  319- 
330;  attends  Pentecost,  52; 
before  Agrippa,  296-303;  be- 
fore Festus,  291;  before 
Sanhedrin,  277-280 ;  bigotry 
of,  19;  bred  in  towns,  26; 
collects  for  Jerusalem,  18, 
29;  consecrated  in  Arabia, 
50;  declines  worship  at  Lys- 
tra, 10;  defends  resurrection, 
19;  denounces  Elymas,  61; 
differs  from  Barnabas,  18; 
differs  from  Peter,  87,  181, 
182;  epistles  praised  by 
Peter,       18;       escapes       to 


Csesarea,     139;    farewell    to 
Ephesian    elders,    256,    257; 
founds  no  denomination,  15 ; 
heals   Publius,    76;    his    bag- 
gage, 70;  his  blindness,  130; 
his  boasting,  82,  83 ;  his  calig- 
raphy,  130,  260,  267,  270,  271, 
291 ;  his  chain,  302,  303,  319, 
322,  325;   his  citizenship,  87, 
199,  269,  276-277;  his  college 
education,    70;    his    conver- 
sion,   125-131 ;    his    courage, 
186;  his  exuberant  style,  36; 
his  eyesight,  278-279 ;  his  ges- 
tures, 9;  his  hired  house,  12, 
70;    his    humour,    302,    303; 
his  modesty,  244;  his  obser- 
vation   of     nature,    26;    his 
plain  speech,  11;  his  respect 
for  Timothy,  66;   his   sister, 
264,  284,  304;  his  sufferings, 
82,   83;    his   vision   on   high- 
road, 13 ;  his  voyage,  26,  304- 
318;  in  Arabia,  74,  I39,  142, 
154,    173;    in   Philippian   jail, 
32;  increases  in  strength,  44; 
invites    Mark   to   Rome,    18; 
is  baptized,  137;  Jewish  plots 
against,     185 ;     keeps     feast, 
232;  kicks  against  goad,  90; 
kindly  treated  on  voyage,  17; 
last    journey    to    Jerusalem, 
252-261,  263-265;  learns  con- 
tent,   75;    letter   to    Colosse, 
39,  69;  letter  to  Corinth,  45, 
332;  letter  to  Ephesians,  72; 
letter  to  Galatians,   130,   139, 
155;    letter   to    Philippi,    152, 
322;    letters   to   Corinth,   69; 
letters  to  Thessalonians,  39, 
114;     name     changed     from 
Saul,   154;   not  a  monk,   16; 
on  justification,   18;  possibly 
epileptic,  35 ;  preaches  at  An- 
tioch    in    Pisidia,    152,    169- 
170;      probably      unmarried, 
16;     reconciled     with     John 
Mark,    28;    reconciled    with 
Peter,    186;    relieves    famine 
in   Judea,    155;    rescued    by 


356 


INDEX 


nephew,  284-286;  returns  to 
Tarsus,  139;  second  mission- 
ary tour,  185,  etc.;  shaves 
head  at  Cenchrea,  91,  177; 
silence  on  miracles,  80;  stays 
with  Peter,  51,  139;  stroke 
near  Damascus,  97;  suffer- 
ings, 171;  supported  by 
Philippians,  70;  takes  Naz- 
arite  vow,  28;  taught  by 
Gamaliel,  50,  126;  the  per- 
secutor, 115-116;  tour  with 
Barnabas,  162-171;  tries  to 
unite  Church,  106;  vision  at 
Troas,  188-190;  visits  Sa- 
lonica,  196;  watches  Ste- 
phen's martyrdom,  112;  wel- 
comed by  Barnabas,  139; 
withstands  Peter,  18;  works 
miracles,  42;  writes  Corin- 
thians, 35 
Pauline  theology,  256 
Pentecost,  49,  52  onwards,  59, 

97,  252 
Pergamos,  19,  21,  235 
Persecution,  30 
Perseus,  195 
Persia,  86 

Peter,  26,  342;  abdicates,  161; 
addresses  church  on  circum- 
cision, 179-1S0;  and  Ananias 
and  Sapphira,  99-103;  and 
Cornelius,  28;  and  Gentiles, 
64;  and  keys,  175;  and  lame 
man,  76,  93;  and  Romans, 
31;  as  chief  pastor,  140;  at 
Antioch,  18,  64;  at  Joppa, 
70 ;  conservatism,  91,  121 ; 
clings  to  Jerusalem,  115;  de- 
nounces Simon  Magus,  61 ; 
differs  from  Paul,  87,  181, 
182;  faces  Sanhedrin,  y?', 
founds  no  denomination,  15; 
goes  to  Samaria,  118;  heals 
lame  beggar,  28;  crucifixion, 
88;  his  defective  education, 
64;  his  epistles,  331-338;  his 
letters,  64;  his  patience,  35; 
his  prejudices,  19;  his  wife, 
64;  in  a  storm,  311;  in  upper 


room,  23;  praises  Paul's 
epistles,  18;  reconciled  with 
Paul,  28,  186;  refuses  obei- 
sance, 10;  settles  at  Caesarea, 
161;  silence  on  miracles,  80; 
threefold  denial,  19;  thrown 
into  prison,  156-161 ;  vision 
in  tannery,  13,  140-149 

Pew  rents,  226 

Pharisees,  15,  278,  279,  280 

Phebe,  195 

Pheidias,  209 

Pheidippides,  no 

Philadelphia,  19,  21,  175,  235 

Philemon,  33,  72,  325,  326;  de- 
frauded by  Onesimus,  17 

Pilgrimages,  22 

Philip  the  Evangelist,  30,  32, 
186,  259;  a  Protestant,  140; 
baptizes,  13;  his  four  daugh- 
ters, 108,  140,  194;  his 
preaching,  1 14-124;  served 
tables,  13 

Philippi,  26,  Z7,  18s,  187,  188, 
190,  252,  261,  277,  324,  328; 
baptisms  at,  13;  divination 
at,  61 ;  dye-house  at,  72 ; 
earthquake  at,  32;  events  at, 
191-205  ;  jailer  bathes  apostles' 
wounds,  17,  32;  letter  to, 
152,  2iV\  riverside,  12;  Paul's 
satisfaction  with,  16 

Phoenice,  307,  308 

Phoenicia,   177 

Phoenicians,  258 

Pillar  of  cloud  and  fire,  185 

Pisidia,   165,   168,  176 

Plato,  206 

Politicians,  responsibility  of, 
281 

Pollux,  317-318 

Pompeii,  288,  298 

Pontus,  64,  215 

Potsdam,  283 

Prayers  for  dead,  23 

Presbyterians,  335;  and  elders, 
16 

Presbytery,  253 

Princeton,  206 

Printing,  62 


INDEX 


357 


Pnscilla,  31,  195,  215,  216,  223, 

320,  344 
Prisoners    and    captives,    198- 

205 
Prison  reform,  204-205 
Profiteering,  314 
Property  a  trust,  69 
Prostitution,    192 
Protectionists,  308 
Prussianism,   174 
Psychical  research,  61 
Psychism,  25 
Ptolemais,  259 
Punch,  248 
Publius,  76,  316,  321 
Puritan  Sunday,  233 
PuteoH,  320,  329 


Quebec,  language  question  in, 

59 
Quakers,  141,  162 


Radicals,  147 

Rationalism,  209 

Rations,  62 

Rebecca,  299 

Red  Cross,  62 

Referendum,  106 

Relics,  55 

Resurrection,  20 

Reuben,  46 

Rhegium,  318 

Rheims,  Cathedral  of,  92 

Rhoda,  12,  19,  159 

Rhodes,  259 

Rich  men,  20 

Right  of  asylum,  262 

Rimmon,  33 

Robespierre,  199,  239 

Roman  Catholics,  141,  162 

Rome,  305,  307;  churches  at, 
16;  church  not  founded  by 
Peter,  31 ;  empire  of,  86,  245  ; 
Jews  expelled  from,  195, 
215;  Paul  at,  319-330;  Paul's 
letter  to,  31 ;  politics  of,  17 

Rousseau,  294,  295 

Rue  de  Rivoli,  134 


Ruskin,  37,  302 
Russia,  196,  309 
Russian  Church,  16 
Ruth,  197 


Sabbath  days,  178 

Sadducees,  15 

Saint,  22 

St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  219 

Salome,  297 

Salonica  (See  Thessalonians) 

Salvation  Army,  173 

Samaria,  30,  33,  45,  153,  177 

Samaria,  Philip  at,   I15-121 

Samothrace,  190 

Sanhedrin,    17,   28,    32,   42,   81, 

127,  179,  291,  339;  massacred, 

298;  Paul  before,  277-280 
Sapphira,  19,  29,  41,  43,  48,  66, 

71,  72,  97,  103,  120,  339 
Sarah,  299 
Sardis,  19,  21,  235 
Satan,  26,  27,  loi,  197 
Saul  leaves  Tarsus,  154 
Saul  (See  Paul) 
Saul,  king,  152 
3avonarola,  268 
^ceva  and  seven  sons,  61,  239, 

240 
Schism,  15,  28,  162 
Schoolmen,  213 
Schwab,  Charles  M.,  235 
Scotland,  335 

Scythians,  16,  211,  299,  329 
Second  Coming,  19,  242,  251 
Seleucia,  162,  163 
Serbian  and  Bulgarian,  145 
Servant  and  master,  73,  74 
Sevenfold  Spirit,  21 
Seventy  Evangelists,  107 
Shakespeare,   145 
Shew-bread,  93 
Shropshire,  64 
Shylock,  145,  184-185 
Siam,  232 
Sicily,  318 
Si  don,  304 

Silas,  13,  32,  49,  116,  194,  236, 
277,  339 


358 


INDEX 


Silas  at  Philippi,  191-205 

Simeon  caller  Niger,  153 

Simeon  the  patriarch,  46 

Simon  Magus,  19,  26,  43,  61, 
71,  72,  81,  119-120 

Simon  the  tanner,  142 

Simon  the  zealot,  17 

Sinai,  173 

Slave  girl,  Philippi,  26 

Slavery,  34,  89 

Slums,  34 

Smyrna,  21,  235 

Snol)bery,  181 

Social  contract,  294,  295 

Socialism,  69 

Social  reform,  95 

Socrates,  174,  206 

Sodom,  27,  338 

Solomon,  260 

Somersetshire,  24 

Song  of  a  Shirt,  193 

Sosthenes,  216,  219,  220 

South  Africa,  languages  in,  59 

Soviet,  174,  307 

Spain,  232 

Spanish  art,  329 

Spirit,  unity  of,  19 

Spiritual  gifts,  221 

Spiritualism,   160,  231 

Star  Chamber,  278 

Stations  of  cross,  259 

Stephen,  22,  137,  151,  260,  328; 
face  like  angel,  32;  his  ca- 
reer, 104-113;  his  funeral, 
114;  his  vision,  13,  39; 
serves  tallies,  13;  silence  on 
miracles,  81 

Stephanas,  223;  household  bap- 
tized, 13 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  193 

Straight,  street  in  Damascus, 
133,  134,  135 

Strike  in  Egypt,  74 

"  Suggestion  "  for  sick,  85 

Sunday  newspapers,  331 

vSunday  schools,  259 

Susannah,  17 

Sweating  system,  33 

Synagogue,  165,  172,  208,  322- 
324 


Synod,  253 
Syracuse,  318,  328 

Tabernaci^e,  27,  185 

Tarsus,  90,  139,  140,  141,  154, 
305 

Telegraphs,  62 

Telepathy,  134 

Telescopes,  247,  249 

Temple,  beauty  of,  31;  de- 
scribed, 92,  93;  destroyed, 
263;  26(3;  wall  of  partition  in, 
28 

Tent-making,  215 

Tertullus,  11,  282,  286-288 

Texas,  64 

Theophilus,  283,  328 

Theosophy,  25,  61 

Thessalonians,  25,  37,  188,  196; 
and  Second  Coming,  19,  214, 
244;  Paul's  letters  to,  39,  43 

Theudas,  28,  43,  86 

Thomas,  the  apostle,  202;  his 
doubts,  19 

Three  Taverns,  321 

Thyatira,  19,  21,  27,  235,  253 

Tibet,  105,  232 

Timothy,  25,  27,  31,  49,  56,  84, 
107,  116,  177,  195,  207,  236, 
254,  265,  317,  327,  339;  cir- 
cumcision of,  29;  his  parent- 
age, 28;  his  youth,  66;  let- 
ters to,  319;  pastor  at  Eph- 
esus,  232;  sent  to  Corinth, 
222;  warned,  20 

Titus,  26,   178,  236,  297,  327 

Titus  (Emperor),  92 

Tolstoy,  302 

Torquemada,  126,  278 

Town's  meeting,  106 

Trades  Union,  56 

Transfiguration,  333,  336 

Trial  by  jury,  196 

Troas,  76,  185,  232,  235,  252, 
254,  255,  261 ;  Paul's  vision 
at,  188-190 

Trogyllium,  254 

Trophimus,  the  Ephesian,  28, 
84,  93,  236,  237,  266,  267,  269, 
317 


INDEX 


359 


Trotski,  239 
Tuileries,  92 
Turkish  Pashas,  268 
Tychicus,  325,  326 
Tyndall,  273 

Tyrannus,  school  of,  235 
Tyre,  257,  320 

Uganda,  153 
Ulster,  335 
Ultramontanes,  283 
Unsanitary  tenements,  34 
Utopia,  34,  315 

Vassar,  212 

Veil  of  Temple,  93 

Verdun,  239 

Versailles,  169 ;  banquet  at,  225 

Vespasian,  297 

Vesuvius,  318 

Vienna,  283 

Viper,  316-317 

Voltaire,  224 

Voyage  of  Paul,  304-318 

Wages,  14 
War,  345 
Washington,  52 
Washington,  Booker,  273 
Washington,  George,  329 
Wealth  and  poverty,  68 


Wee  Frees,  335 

WelUngton,  329 

Wesleys,  162,  302 

Wesleyans,  15,  16 

Whitsuntide,  52 

Whittier,  193,  268 

Widows,  Grecian  and  Hebrew, 
i8,  29,  71,  104,  105 

Wilson,  President,  34,  59 

Wind,  24  ,    .  ,        . 

Women,  degradation  of,  190; 
gossips  at  Corinth,  19;  mod- 
est fashions  of,  10 ;  prophesy, 
108;  sometimes  silly,  25; 
their  ostentation,  20;  minis- 
try, 221;  suffrage,  106 

Wordsworth,  65 

Wycliffe,  162,  206 

Yale,  206 

Y.  M.  C.  A.,  173,  219 

Yorkshire,  24 


Zeai,ots,  341  - 

Zebedee,  339,  342 ;  sons  of, 


156 

Zebulun,  46 
Zenana,  263 
Zeus,  344 
Zion,  34 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Date  Due 

iv  ^-    "" 

.iV 

mi'i-^^-i 

- 1 

1 

f. 

